


Dolos

by agent_cupcake



Series: Follower Giveaway Requests [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Face-Fucking, Friends With Benefits, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Threesome - F/M/M, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:15:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26483269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent_cupcake/pseuds/agent_cupcake
Summary: first place winner wanted Yuri / Claude / Reader as a kind of sequel to Aletheia/Yuri Leclerc, apparently, had decided to visit. He was the type of man that was almost always unreadable. Or smirking. Plotting, planning, not too unlike your king. Only, where Claude thrived in the sun dappled world of politics, Yuri was a shadowy figure in the night. The most formidable criminal player in Fódlan. And here he was, watching you approvingly in the familiar comfort of Claude’s sitting room like he belonged there.
Relationships: Claude von Riegan/Reader, Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc/Claude von Riegan/Reader, Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc/Reader
Series: Follower Giveaway Requests [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1883035
Comments: 18
Kudos: 81





	1. Chapter 1

News spread throughout the palace like wildfire. Even when it was meant to be kept quiet. No, especially then. Claude had a visitor. Mysterious, foreign, he came without notice and had been quickly hurried out of sight. It was strange to be sure. He hadn’t called for you, but Claude knew as well as you did that you’d find out and come anyway, no invitation needed. That was just the way of things, both of you were too nosy for your own good. The casual way in which you regarded the lapse of propriety once would have shocked you, but now it felt as natural as breathing.

It was his fault. Honesty, transparency, tearing down all the walls that would divide you.

Thinking about that made your chest ache in a hollow, bitter way. You still weren’t entirely sure where you were with him. Things had been unsteady since that night. Or, perhaps, too steady. He was so eager to get everything back to normal. And it worked. Mostly. When you were together, you could readily believe in everything Claude had told you. You could buy into his vision of what you were meant to be, who you were to him. But alone, well. Things were always harder when you were alone. Sometimes something frightening welled up within you. It was not the fear, or the anger, or the helplessness. It was the doubt create by the memory of those things.

You were almost able to ignore it, to cast aside your fractured memory of that night.

But that word was the kicker. Almost.

After being so flush with conviction, to be caught in uncertainty was agonizing.

It was his fault.

You shook that bitter thought from your head with a nearly violent jerk, taking advantage of the dark halls to cover the spastic movement. There were far more important things to focus on than your own personal melodrama. That was the way of it, of everything, wasn’t it?

A mysterious visitor. That would be a good distraction.

The door to Claude’s sitting room was cracked ever so slightly. A trap probably, left open just for you. Or you were reading too far into things. It didn’t matter much, as there was just enough space for you to pause, breath held and ears straining to listen through the narrow opening. There were voices from within, two of them. Male. Unaccented. You hesitated there, unable to make out any of the words, only aware of when they stopped abruptly.

“You can come in, you know,” Claude called from within, his voice raised enough to reach where you hovered. It caused you to start. A deserved surprise, all things considered. “How long were you hiding there?” Claude asked as you stepped past the threshold, not surprised to see that it was you. A trap, then. Or, more charitably —and Claude was so charitable— an invitation. 

“I wasn’t hiding,” you told him, although there was a certain unintended edge to the words that made them seem deflective. Claude sat in his usual chair, a big, comfortable throne of seat that was plush enough for him to take up any manner of unusual reading postures. In the chair across from him sat the guest, the second voice you’d been hearing.

Yuri Leclerc, apparently, had decided to visit. Instantly, every defense you were in possession of was thrown forward, your instincts recognizing the man as a threat before your mind could catch up. He was watching you with too-keen eyes and an unreadable expression. Yuri was the type of man that was almost always unreadable. Or smirking. Plotting, planning, not too unlike your king. Only, where Claude thrived in the sun dappled world of politics, Yuri was a shadowy figure in the night. The most formidable criminal player in Fódlan. And here he was, watching you approvingly in the familiar comfort of Claude’s sitting room like he belonged there.

A thousand questions jumped to mind, but you stifled them. That would be rude. After all, Yuri was a friend. Or so Claude said. You smiled. “I was merely trying to think of a good enough excuse so that when I interrupted, it wouldn’t seem so suspicious. Then you would so graciously invite me to join you.”

“And how’d that go?” Claude asked, playing into your game without blinking. “Did you think of one?”

”Oh, sure. I came to tell you about a strange visitor that’s come to the castle.” You looked at Yuri, meeting his eyes for as long as you could bear before looking away. Of all of the people Claude knew from Fódlan, he was the most interesting. And the most dangerous. You resisted the urge to squirm under the scrutiny of his eyes. “ _Very_ strange and mysterious. Probably a foreigner. Possibly dangerous.”

Claude laughed. “Right. Well, I’d hate to compromise on security. Would you like to join us?”

“If you insist,” you said, shutting the door fully behind you and taking in a big breath. “It’s been awhile, Yuri.”

“It seems that all of us have been quite busy,” he responded warmly, standing up to greet you. In all the time that had passed, you had forgotten about how pretty Yuri was. Or perhaps it just wasn’t something that you _could_ remember, his image intangible and vague when you weren’t directly exposed to it, like the lingering tendrils of a dream that caught as fleeting fancy in the waking world. In fact, Yuri did possess a strange, elusive dream-like quality. At a glance, anyone could tell that he was most definitely from the west, what with that paper-white skin and light violet hair, his narrow features and that slim build. Considering his reputation, it was nearly paradoxical that he would be so strikingly feminine. But this, too, was a weapon.

You almost would have preferred he show up with a sword in your face. At least you would know how to react to that, would be able to keep a cool head.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again.” Yuri took your hand, pressing a kiss to its back when he bowed. Although you knew this to be a western tradition of introduction —Claude had taught you all manner of western traditions— Yuri’s method was disarming. Far too charming to be authentic, but not slimy enough to read as deceptive.

“You too,” you said, bowing in turn while doing your best to keep from seeming affected by his demeanor. Yuri, just like Claude, was the type of man who enjoyed playing with people. It was, you supposed, apart of his charm. The type of charm that made your teeth clench.

“Yuri and I were just discussing his trip,” Claude said, seemingly oblivious to Yuri’s flirtatious greeting. Or dismissing it as Yuri’s usual antics. Or, no, Claude’s smirk told you that he was fully aware of your flustered reaction and found it entertaining. You pushed down the impulse to scowl at the man. “Apparently, a group of bandits has been making a nuisance of themselves along Fódlan’s Throat.”

“A group of bandits _had_ been making a nuisance of themselves along Fódlan’s Throat,” Yuri corrected, sitting back down gracefully. You followed suit, albeit with far less poise. You didn’t believe yourself to be an awkward person per se, but he could make anyone look like a lumbering oaf by comparison. “When I heard that there was trouble with a group of Almyran merchants coming into Fódlan, I got permission from Holst to gather a group of my best men and follow a shipment coming out of Fódlan into Almyra.” His lip pulled back slightly, a slight expression of disgust. Just a blink later, it had passed, his face composed back into airy calm. “For all the trouble they caused, they were nothing but a lousy group of thugs without a single shred of sense between them. The only reason they’d done as much damage as they had was because of their terrain advantage.”

“And?” Claude prompted dryly. For all of his personal dramatics, he often lacked the patience to indulge anyone else’s.

Yuri smiled, undeterred. “Let’s just say they won’t be bothering anybody else.”

There was no question as to what that meant with that suggestive grin. You didn’t envy the bandits. Then again, you didn’t pity them, either. As far as you were concerned, men like that deserved what they got. For all of the many ways Claude disagreed with you about acts of violence and death, he obviously felt the same. Or maybe it was just okay when Yuri did it.

“I suppose you’ll be wanting a reward for this good deed,” Claude said.

“I couldn’t possibly,” Yuri said with a wave of his hand. “Besides, several merchants have already made their appreciation abundantly clear. Their _gratitude_ is all the reward I need. Besides, it wasn’t entirely unselfish. Bandits hurt my business, too.”

“You have my thanks all the same,” Claude said. “I mean that.”

“Will you be going back to Fódlan soon, then?” you asked. You didn’t meant to sound so eager, but the words came out that way all the same.

“I have business here, actually,” Yuri answered. One of his carefully manicured eyebrows raised. “Why, are you that eager to see me gone?”

Gods, his eyes practically cut through to your soul, twinkling in amusement. “I didn’t mean it like that,” you said, trying to remain steady. “But, you know, having a foreigner hanging around during times like this could be inconvenient. There’s quite a bit of unrest already and your line of work is, well, it could cause issues here.” Not to mention the fact that you still didn’t know if you could trust him and were at least mostly certain that him being here could cause upset in your relationship with Claude. That last thought came out of nowhere, hitting you hard and leaving you breathless. You cast a side eye to Claude, jumping slightly when his gaze met yours. Too perceptive. You looked away.

“I promise not to cause any trouble,” Yuri said, putting on an air of sincerity despite the small smirk he still wore. “Besides, it was quite an ordeal to get here, my men and I need some rest before we can make the trip back. You wouldn’t be so cold as to ask me to put myself or my men at risk, now would you?”

Your eyes narrowed, but you shrugged. “That’s my opinion as an advisor, it has nothing to do with me being cold. In any case, it’s not up to me.” You looked at Claude pointedly. His expression was difficult to read, his fingers resting on his chin as he considered it.

“As long as you agree not to cause any trouble, I welcome you to stay as long as you would like,” Claude finally said to Yuri. “And since you seem so concerned about his presence,” he continued, turning to you, “why don’t you keep an eye on him? I’m sure Yuri could use a guide. Assuming that works for you, Yuri.”

“I have no objections,” he responded, flashing you a brilliant grin. “I look forward to getting to know you even better. Who knows, maybe we can even become friends.” Gods, did he have to say everything like it was a proposition? Even the word “friend” was heavy with implications when it came from his mouth. In spite of yourself, you felt your stomach clench, the fine hairs on the back of your neck standing on end.

“Claude,” you bit out between your teeth. “I’m not sure-”

“Great! Then its settled,” Claude said, cutting you off. “Well, it’s getting late and I am just beat. I’m gonna hit the hay.” He stood, stretching and yawning in an exaggerated way that only he could make look like anything less than a farcically bad performance. “Yuri, you’re more than welcome to take a room in the palace if you can find a maid to prepare one for you. They have a thing about outsiders so it might be somewhat of a hunt, but I’m sure she’d be happy to help.”

“Wait a min-”

“Actually,” Yuri cut you off, standing. “I already have a place in town. Wouldn’t want to be too far from my men in case something goes wrong. I suppose that’s my not so subtle cue to leave.” He paused, his head tilting slightly as he looked at you. “I’m staying at the Silkstone Inn, in case you want to come keep an eye on me. I could use a guide to show me around the city.” He smirked. “I promise to make it worth your while.”

“That’s not necessary,” you said flatly.

“Heh, nevertheless. Goodnight.” Yuri tipped his head towards you. “Claude, it was a pleasure seeing you again. I hope we can catch up while I’m in town.”

“I’m sure I can find some time to entertain you. I’d love to swap secrets, for old times sake.”

“Now _that_ sounds like fun. Until then.” Yuri didn’t wait for an answer, exiting without asking for Claude’s leave, dramatic cape flaring behind him.

Impudent scoundrel.

You stood. “Can we talk, Claude?”.

“Too tired,” Claude said, the words disfigured by another yawn. This one was far less convincing. Your eyes narrowed.

“You pawned me off to be a… A babysitter,” you said. “I had no idea he was going to be here, I didn’t plan for this at all.” You pulled in a large steadying breath, not that it did much to settle you. “Be honest, Claude, is this your way of punishing me?”

“I’m not punishing you,” Claude said, his facade of fatigue fading away as he read your expression, gaze holding yours. His eyes were too sharp, too astute. It made you uncomfortable, a sense of transparency rippling through you like a shiver. All the doubt you’d been secretly harboring was in your eyes. You knew it, and you knew that he did, too. “Truth be told, I didn’t know that Yuri would be coming, either. But… that’s not what you meant, is it?”

“It is,” you told him sharply, disliking that question intensely.

“No, no, this isn’t about Yuri. There’s something that’s been bothering you. After our little conversation the other night, I would have thought you’d be able to open up and tell me what you’re thinking. I can’t read your mind, you know.” Could have fooled you. He sighed, frowning. “You’re upset about something, I can tell that much. Are you… Angry with me? I hoped that it would get better, but it’s not, is it?”

A question. Yes or no. Simple.

Honesty was sweet and vile. Your hands clenched into tight fists and the taste of sugar was thick on your tongue, heat creeping in on the edges of your mind. It all came up, sugary bile in your throat and in your head. You hated yourself for your answer but he had asked you a question and expected the truth.

“I’m not angry with you,” you told him. “That’s the truth, you don’t even need to drug me to hear it. I’m not angry with you. How could I be? After all, you’re my king. My lover. For me, there is nobody else. And I’m-I’m okay with it, I’m not angry with you.” Words that had brewed as a cutting critique of his treatment, that you had meant to use to hurt Claude, ended up lacking any of the rage you had originally intended. That was the nature of the truth, the unpredictability of emotion. Looking into Claude’s eyes, you melted. The feeling wasn’t sweet, or feverish, or synthetic. Honesty was painful. Honesty was crippling. “How could I be angry with you?”

Claude’s expression fell. It might have been your intention in all the time those words had been brewing in your chest but actually seeing his pain nearly broke your heart.

“I’ve been going about this the wrong way, haven’t I?” He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. The silence was long and awkward, your words echoing in your mind, each pass creating a feedback of regret for having spoken in such a way. “Maybe we should take a break from this little scandal of ours. I’ve got the feeling you need some time to think.”

“Think about what?” you asked.

“What you want,” Claude said. At your scandalized expression, he was quick to continue, “I don’t mean give up your position, at least not for now, but we can’t continue on with this hanging over us. I’m asking you to help out a friend while he visits because I don’t trust anyone else to do it. That’s all there is to this.” He waved his hand in a vague gesture. “As to everything else… Please, just think about what it is that you really want. Whatever it is you choose,” he shrugged, “I suppose we’ll go from there.”

“After everything you’ve done,” you said, a block of ice in your stomach, “that’s it?”

“What? Not at all,” Claude said, seemingly surprised by your accusation. “But I can’t force you to feel something if you don’t. The heart wants what it wants, right? Right.” He yawned again, this one far more authentic. He really did look tired. You hadn’t noticed that before. “And right now, my heart wants a good night’s sleep. You should think about getting some, too. You’ve got a big day ahead of you.” 

You winced.

“Don’t make that face, everything is gonna work out just fine.” Whether he was talking about Yuri or you or your relationship, you weren’t sure. Maybe all of it, maybe none. Claude kissed your cheek in a shockingly chaste way and didn’t invite you to his bed, even though you were half certain you’d have agreed despite everything. He bid you goodnight.

The wind teased you that night, billowing in your curtains and kissing chills onto your skin as you thrashed around in your bed in the search of a comfortable position. You thought about doubt, and choices, but did finally get to sleep. Small mercies.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know. This got out of hand. Now it's three parts. Sue me.

The sun was only partially up in the cloudless sky when you set out for the Silkstone Inn, the capital city Zerzura aflame in slanted rays of golden morning light. It was early still, the morning hectic with the cacophony of people preparing for the day. Nobody gave you so much as a second glance as you left the palace complex, this time not bothering to borrow a horse. It was a relief to be free on your own two feet, to crest the outer wall cross the bridge alone. Someone might have been watching you, following you, but you decided you didn’t care.

Claude had made it perfectly clear that, if he so desired, it would happen regardless of your efforts.

Oh, Claude. Seeing the city in the morning light brought forth a memory, perfectly preserved in your mind.

“What do you think?” Claude had asked. A long time ago now, seemingly a whole other lifetime ago, the first time you ever met your king and his city.

And you had stared open-mouthed at the splendor of Zerzura, a civilization built into one of the tallest hills in the area. Unlike where you’d grown up, there were no green forests surrounding the city. Nor was the horizon lined with the hulking snow-capped mountains that existed further to the west. Here was a land of rolling hills and reddish-gold deserts, sand, and rock and a sparkling blue snake of a river.

The architectural marvel of the grand palace sat at the very top with its white-washed walls and pillars and towers and massive stained glass windows catching the sun. Blanketing the rest of the hill, the Royal Quarter was filled with angular buildings seemingly carved right from the rock and noble keeps with bulbous roofs formed out of glazed brick and stone. The rest of the city laid in an expansive sprawl beyond the Royal Quarters’ famed gate, districts mashed together and streets forming an unsolvable maze. And everywhere, _everywhere_ was color. Defiant to the desert’s washed out pallet, splashes of pigment covered the clay and stone, bright patterned tent-tops were strewn across the market squares, and crowds of brightly-dressed people rushed like schools of exotic fish from one place to the next.

“It’s beautiful,” you had replied, breathless with awe and adoration and excitement. Claude’s smile outshone the city and the sun when he gestured out to it all and welcomed you. Your head had been dizzy with who were you meant to be and what was in front of you and for a fleeting collection of seconds, you were certain it was true love or something so near it you couldn’t tell the difference. You didn’t know the name of that feeling —you still didn’t— but it was far more potent than any wine you’d ever tried. It was in your blood. And you knew that Claude’s blood ran through the city. After all that he’d done for Fódlan and everywhere he’d been, a piece of his heart remained here. And you could feel it. That moment, the view, splendid as it was, would always remind you of Claude.

But, after your conversation last night, that memory did little to improve your mood. How were you meant to reconcile the man who had drugged you senseless and forced your soul bare to his eyes with the man whose face had twisted with pain after your words to him last night? Who were you to believe, the one who was prying and controlling or the one who talked about choice? Fealty to one, to all. Did it even matter how you reconciled it all?

Then again, throwing yourself right back into the line of duty and pretending that it was all fine, that you were unbothered and unconflicted, made you feel sick.

It was a no-win situation.

You hurried your pace, hoping that the steady thump of each footfall as you descended down the zig-zag roadways of the Royal Quarter would help you put the past out of your mind. Or, at the very least, put your infuriating king out of your mind with some distance.

If only it were that simple.

Poised uncertainly in a pale, cloudless sky of blue, the sun had worked itself into a sturdy blaze when you reached your destination. The Silkstone Inn, a place of grand reputation, for better or worse. Depending on who you asked, it was either a place of utmost luxury and comfort or the choice location for over-priced drinks and hushed talks of noble treason. Because of both sides of its reputation, it had become a bit of neither. An establishment that had once been very fine sitting at the very edge where the Palace Quarter began to fray into the Central Ward, luckily situated in front of one of the main city arches that connected the two districts. It wasn’t exactly a rough establishment, but there was a rugged sort of charm to the area, an unraveling of order that you both detested and appreciated.

So caught up in your personal angst, you’d nearly forgotten what you were doing here. Things with Claude were too messy and complicated for your mood to work itself into a proper storm, but this? Playing babysitter? You could be singularly angry at that. At the same time, you knew that you couldn’t let your mood get the better of you. Claude was still your king, and your loyalty to that was absolute. No matter what else… Well, no matter what.

On his orders.

Steeling yourself, you pulled open the heavy door and stepped into the inn. It was cooler inside, of course, and dark. Intimate in a way that didn’t exactly fit the tone of the early morning. Although the sudden darkness left you momentarily blinded, you knew you were being watched the second you entered. Somehow, you knew whose eyes you felt, too. Yuri Leclerc. You could feel the weight of his gaze as you blinked fast to adjust to the dim lighting, searching for him before anything else.

He was there, at the head of a table filled with a mixture of Almyran and Fódlan men. Yuri’s men? They all seemed to defer to him equally, despite his obvious foreign origins. The group, heedless of the night of intoxication that you could see in their slumped postures and red eyes, talked and laughed together warmly, loudly. Claude would like that. Despite the comradery among the men, Yuri seemed separate from them. Nobody would accuse him of being out of place, considering the way he lounged and spectated like he owned the place, but there was something about the flowing dynamics of the group that didn’t quite include him. Your thoughts went straight to Claude, who always seemed to live divided from everyone else. The loneliness of a ruler.

Then Yuri smiled at you and, just like that, your thoughts scattered and every bit of the previous night’s hesitation and frustration returned.

With halting steps, you approached the table. It was your duty, but you didn’t have to be eager about it. A part of your mind acknowledged that you were being petty, that you didn’t have to make your displeasure with the situation so clear. The other part rolled its eyes.

Yuri stood and said something to his men. He’d very clearly cleaned up since you saw him last night. It wasn’t a particularly proud moment, but you couldn’t help but study him when he was looking away. Yuri was beautiful, that was a fact you felt you couldn’t be faulted for voicing. And he was striking. He stood out with that milky complexion and brightly colored long hair and the clothes made it more obvious. Fódlan attire. Shirts without vests that were loose where they should have been tight, heavy fabrics with plain prints, stiff trousers that were tailored close to his legs, and heeled boots with an oddly pointed toe. Even without the cape and a few top buttons of his coat undone to reveal a slender swatch of pale neck, he would probably be hot in the summer weather. Still, the combination of his soft appearance with the rough, harsh edges of an outfit so uniquely uniform and theatrically practical was interesting, to say the least.

Yuri caught your gaze as he finally turned, his violet eyes flashing in delight, and you knew you’d been caught staring.

Damn.

“Good morning sunshine,” Yuri said to you, performing a mocking sort of bow. “Sleep well?”

“It was fine,” you said, aware that some of the men had turned to look at who Yuri had left them for. Even though you usually did when appearing in public, you regretted your choice to wear such a feminine dress. The long skirt was split up the sides to reveal a pair of silk leggings and allow for ease of movement, but it was still a far cry from the boyish buttoning shirt and loose trousers you had been wearing last night. You looked like a girl, which wasn’t an issue normally, but normally people knew your position and what it meant. These men might not even recognize Claude for what he was, let alone recognize you. All they saw was a girl intending to spend the day with their boss. That really bothered you more than it should have, but you soldiered onward. “I take it that you and your men are being seen to properly?”

“Yes, everything’s been absolutely perfect so far,” he said. “Although some of my men were caught off guard by the local cuisine. Your people really take your spices seriously.”

“And how did you fare?” you asked, finding a perverse pleasure in imagining Yuri doubled over as he coughed and sputtered after a bite of peppery curry. The artist Ignatz had nearly keeled over.

Yuri shrugged. “Fine, but I prefer things that are sweet. Still...” There was something more in his words, an implication made clearer as his eyes trailed across you, not even attempting to be subtle. “Far be it from me to turn down a good meal. By the way, did I mention how stunning you look today?”

Embarrassed heat swelled in your chest. It wasn’t like you were a stranger to being flirted with, many men had good motive to get close to you. Usually, you could shrug it off with no issue. There was only one person who was really capable of embarrassing you.

Claude. Of course.

Schooling your features into a calm mask to keep your reaction hidden, you adopted what you hoped was a rather unimpressed tone. “And you look quite out of place. I can recommend a good tailor if you didn’t bring anything more appropriate to wear. I doubt Claude would mind, but others might not look at you too favorably if you return to the palace dressed like that.”

“And where might I find something more appropriate?” Yuri asked with an amusement you didn’t understand twinkling in his eyes, unconcerned with your dismissal.

“In the Royal Quarter, past Sarsan Square…” He raised an eyebrow, reminding you that he had never been around the city before. “Oh, right.” You cleared your throat. “Is there anywhere, in particular, you want to go?” 

“Oh, there’s a few places. I’ll let you know.”

You inhaled and exhaled in a measured way. No reason to get upset over him being vague, smug, and infuriatingly charming. “Right. Shall we?”

Yuri swept his arm towards the door. “Ladies first.”

-

The rest of the morning was, all things considered, uneventful. He already knew where to find certain things —the merchants that were quite indebted to him after his daring rescue, a repair shop where the supply wagons were getting fixed, the stables where the horses were being taken care of— but there were other places in the Central Ward market that he wanted to see, too. Salt-crusted southern traders peddling fish and salt and oil, builders with rough hands who smelled of the thick aroma of sanded wood and finishing lacquer, and several groups of the traveling types of merchants who responded to Yuri’s questions with stark frowns. He was careful to keep you far enough away from each conversation that you couldn’t hear what was said. Fair, but annoying. If he was doing something illegal as his reputation would practically demand, you wanted to know.

His most surprising request was to visit a temple. Any temple, he said. Although you weren’t quite sure what to make of the request, you agreed. Almyrans, especially those here in Zerzura where many people perceived that their faith was threatened somehow by that of Fódlan’s dominating political religion, were as excessive in worship as they were in any other particularly soulful enterprise. Passion was a very singular drive among your people, equal between battle thrill and worship. In truth, there could not be one without the other. Because of that, a temple wasn’t hard to find, their braziers and incense burning away despite the heat.

You felt some hesitance as you led Yuri inside. With their single goddess and a ruler who embodied her, you knew the people of the west went about religion differently. Still, Yuri had a surprisingly respectful regard for the place, his demeanor becoming reserved and curious. Thoughtful. Criminals were, in your experience, either very religious or not at all. Usually, their faith was more superstition than anything. Or an obsession that acted as a salve for their conscience. You got a different feeling from Yuri’s slow regard of the different shrines and people paying worship.

“Do you pray often?” you asked in a soft voice out of respect for the subdued atmosphere, unable to hold in your curiosity. “To your goddess, I mean.”

Such a question was almost unspeakably rude, you knew it was, but he didn’t seem upset by it. “No,” Yuri said. At first, you thought that was all you were going to get as an answer, but he continued after a long moment. “My mother is a devout believer in the goddess. I suppose I picked up some of that when I was young. But as for my own faith…” He frowned. Quickly, then, he shook the expression away and raised an eyebrow. “Do you pray often?”

It was fair play, considering you’d asked first. Besides, he didn’t seem to be mocking you. “When I was younger, yes,” you said, then you hesitated, wondering if you should go on. Well, he had been honest with you. Without thinking too hard about it, you grabbed his hand to lead him to a particular shrine. Not at all flashy, or gaudy. It was simple, just like the goddess it was built for. “Asha-Setareh,” you acknowledged. “She’s the goddess of what you call the Blue Sea Star. The goddess of Fódlan. She is not so highly regarded here where her power is weak, but I like to offer my thanks to her. She watched over Claude during the war.” You peeked at him with a sideways look. “And you as well, I suppose.”

One of his fingers twitched against yours and you realized you were still holding Yuri’s hand.

“Sorry,” you said on instinct, dropping it and looking away quickly. Blushing hotly. Again.

“I didn’t take you for the spiritual type,” Yuri said after a measured moment, a small smirk the only reaction to your embarrassment. “I like it. Thanks for sharing this with me. I mean that.”

You shrugged, refusing to meet his eyes. “Well, you asked.” You looked around frantically, searching for anything to avoid him. “Is there anything else you’d like to see here?”

“Nope. My curiosity is satiated,” Yuri said. “For now.” With the way he was looking at you, you had a feeling that he wasn’t talking about the temple. “How far away is that tailor you mentioned?”

“Not very,” you answered, glad for the change of subject and to leave the relative intimacy of the temple.

“Let’s go, then. Now that I know the city a little better, it’s a shame to not try harder to look the part.” Yuri paused as you walked out into the daylight, blinking unhappily against it. You got the feeling he didn’t spend much time out in the sun. The practically translucent skin should have been a giveaway, you supposed. “It can be convenient but, believe it or not, I really loathe all the excess attention. It’s far too reminiscent of the spotlight.”

“Spotlight? Oh, like limelights... So you were a stage performer,” you said. Somehow, among all of the dozen other things that Yuri was, the idea of him on stage wasn’t that absurd. “I bet you have a lovely voice, too, right? And a man who looks like you… People probably showered you in roses and gifts right? So was it too much? Or not enough? I suppose war hero and internationally famous criminal do sound cooler than-”

“No,” Yuri said, cutting you off sharply. His expression had hardened, a mask of stone. “I wasn’t a stage performer.”

You were taken aback by the harshness of his voice, which had dropped low. The brutal honesty of whatever stormy emotion furrowed his brow. When he wore that expression, there were no traces of the flirty, infuriating Yuri you’d been showing around the city. It was all dark. The man people called the Savage Mockingbird.

“Sorry,” you said, looking away.

The sudden shift was confusing, off-putting, and despite having no idea what you’d said wrong, a sliver of guilt had worked itself into your heart. Yuri might not have been trustworthy, but for a moment, he had allowed himself to be vulnerable. And you ruined it.

Yuri cast you a sideways glance as you worked through the throngs of people in silence. “Sorry,” he finally said, “I didn’t mean to snap. Unhappy memories, you know?” When you risked a glance his way, he smiling once again. Playful, teasing, his voice lowered as he came closer, close enough for you to hear his question. “Did I scare you?”

“No,” you told him quickly, refusing to look at that grin.

He chuckled.

Infuriating man. Just when you felt like you’d made a breakthrough with him and even felt _bad_ for being rude, he returned right back to this. Your relative comfort with Yuri before was just another issue, though. Wanting to get to know him, trusting him that little bit, admiring his beauty. Disconcerting. Terrible because whenever he got too close, whenever you felt the brush of his skin against yours, all you could think about was what Claude had said. A break. A choice. You’d never had a choice before, your life was created for and dedicated to the king. And him. Always, always, always, and yet-

Yuri wordlessly wandered over to a street-side vendor. Before, it would have annoyed you, but now you were grateful for how it gave you a second to compose yourself. It wasn’t Yuri, specifically, that you were overwhelmed by. You were just confused. All of this was too damn confusing. You frowned and ran a hand over your hair, trying to shake those thoughts out of your head. Choice or no: no.

“What’s that face for?” Yuri asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. He held a paper bag of candied slices of fruit. The vendor still looked slightly dazed as she watched him. You knew the feeling. Yuri paid her no further mind, stepping back into the thoroughfare of the street with his casual grace.

You smoothed your expression. “What do you mean?”

He raised an eyebrow, nonplussed but otherwise playing it off with a shrug, popping a piece of the fruit into his mouth. If you noticed the way some of the excess glaze left his bottom lip shiny, you didn’t linger too much on it. Nor did you particularly feel affected by the sight of his tongue flicking out to swipe it off.

Annoying. You looked away.

“If this is about before, I am s-”

“It’s not,” you interjected before he could finish.

“You know, I get the rather strange impression that you’re _trying_ not to like me,” Yuri said. Rather than raise his voice above the noise of the crowd, he had a habit of getting as close to you as possible so he could speak in his usual voice. Contrasted against the chaotic thrum of dozens of people’s voices at once and the dull roar of the main thoroughfare, the fact that he managed to keep a fairly low volume created a sense of intimacy. Not to mention the other effects of his proximity, the scent of candied fruit and sweat.

You drew your lips together, refusing to show your discomfort. “Whatever could make you think that?”

“That glare of yours, for a start,” Yuri said, purposefully ignoring the sarcasm in your tone. “I’d like to be friends, you know. Seriously, I mean it. At the very least I’d like to know why you dislike me so much.”

You sighed, having to come to a standstill as you waited for a small procession of carts to pass by. “It’s not that I don’t like you,” you admitted. “It’s just-”

“Lord Leclerc! Lord-” a voice came, startling both of you. “Lord Leclerc!” A youthful boy called as he trotted up to Yuri, his eyes bright and face dirty. His hands were clean, though, his clothes scuffed but not in disrepair. An amateur, then. Well, he was only a kid.

If Yuri were at all surprised by the child, he didn’t show it. “Excuse me,” he said to you, handing you his bag of candies without looking, motioning the boy in close so you couldn’t hear them over the noise. After a moment of quick conversation, Yuri handed the boy a few coins. Gold. Right out in the open, too. Your eyes darted around, but most people were too concerned with the traffic jam caused by the merchant’s carts not getting through quickly enough to notice the little exchange. Yuri smiled and the boy dashed back into the crowd. Finally, the carts got through.

“Sorry about that,” Yuri said as he rejoined you. “I’ve got a bleeding heart, you know? Can’t resist helping the less fortunate.”

“How noble,” you said carefully. It wasn’t your business to pry into his affairs, not openly. That had just been a reminder. He was still untrustworthy. So there was no reason to think about how your stomach twisted when Yuri got close. Right. The two of you melted back into the crowd and you handed him his candy.

“Want some?” Yuri asked. You frowned. The stuff had a cloyingly sweet smell, fruit and sugar glaze. It turned your stomach with its poisonous familiarity, made your skin crawl.

“I don’t like sweets.”

He shrugged, but let it pass.

The shopping malls of the Royal Quarter were of a distinctly higher class than the cramped, dusty Central Ward streets that stunk of sweat and clay dirt and sun-ripened wheat and musty animal bodies and waste and enticing simmering spices. Here, the ground was laid with stones so the wealthy shoppers wouldn’t dirty their sandals. A mosaic-tiled fountain gurgled happily in the center of the shopping square, water gushing from a three-faced pillar that erupted from the center of the water pool. The elite strolled beneath the sun in their light summer clothes and veils, some of them carried around in curtained palanquins. There were no beggars at the corners or gaudy merchants calling to the passersby with promises of exotic wares.

“So you were saying?” Yuri prompted.

“About what?” you asked.

“It’s not that you don’t like me…”

You winced. “Did I say that? I can’t remember...” you told him, facing forward as you marched to the tailors.

“Really?” Yuri asked flatly.

“Really,” you agreed. “We were interrupted if you recall.” You raised an eyebrow, daring him to call you out or push the topic. He didn’t, for which you were glad. The entire conversation made you uncomfortable. Uncomfortable because you didn’t know, exactly. What was it about him that made you uneasy? Why did you feel so uncomfortable when you saw that smirk? You could rationalize it by saying that you didn’t trust him or what he was doing in Almyra, but was that the truth? Yuri was as alluring as he was off-putting. There had been a time when you first met that you had harbored something like a crush on the man. But that was silly, a pointless fancy, and had been long before your relationship with Claude had become physical.

Choice or no, he wasn’t an option.

You were glad for the distraction as the two of you entered a familiar tailor shop. It was a nice building, fitted with a sturdy door and large glass windows that filled the place with natural light. Madame Lulwa’s round face lit up brightly when she recognized you. The establishment was run by a husband and wife, a talented pair who made most of Claude’s clothes. He liked them because they would humor his more whimsical requests. You liked them because, after years of watching and monitoring, they’d never so much as entertained a whisper of betrayal. Lulwa’s husband worked in the back while she ran the front. It raised your spirits to see her, the parental way she welcomed you making you smile in turn.

“And who is this?” she asked, nodding to Yuri.

“Yuri Leclerc,” he said before you could answer, bowing elegantly and kissing her hand. “I’m a friend of His Majesty. I was told that if I wished to fit in among the nobles here, you were the best in Almyra.”

You hadn’t said that, but it didn’t matter. “Oh, I… That’s very kind of you,” Lulwa responded, blushing. Blushing! You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Did he really have to try and seduce everyone he came across?

“I’m sorry for not giving you any prior notice,” you said, shooting Yuri a look. “I’m afraid this all happened rather suddenly.”

“Nonsense,” Lulwa said, waving her hand. “I am more than honored to help a friend of His Majesty. Now, dear, if you would kindly come this way so we can get your measurements…”

She hurried him off, discussing what types of clothes he’d want and what colors he preferred. You sighed, wondering what you were going to do while you waited and saddled with a half-eaten bag of sweets that made you nauseous. The scent of it alone was enough to make your throat swell, your stomach churning. That night, that cup of tea, had changed everything. A turning point that, as you were finally beginning to understand, had been rather inevitable. What Claude had done was cruel, but you could finally see some sickening sense in it. It was everything since then that was so befuddling.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him outside the window. The boy had wiped off the dirt and tidied his clothes, but it was unmistakably the same young boy who Yuri had paid in gold before. Recognition struck deeper as you studied his face. Hadn’t he been hanging around the lumber yards? You cast a glance towards Yuri, but he was otherwise occupied in turning this way and that, his measurements being taken by a practiced hand. Chewing on your lip, you made a split decision and left the tailor shop, hurrying back into the sun.

-

A short while later, you returned to the shop.

Yuri stood on the platform surrounded by mirrors, dressed in the familiar garb of the Zerzuran court. Loose white trousers and outer robe with a colorfully patterned silk vest and sash underneath, the undershirt’s sleeves a crisp complementary color. He should have looked awkward wearing foreign clothes, but his posture was no less confident than in his tight trousers and boots. He looked amazing, you had to admit it. There was no harm in acknowledging that, right?

“If you’re going to so openly gawk at me, I might have to start charging you for the pleasure,” Yuri said with a smile. You blinked, taken aback.

“I was _not_ gawking,” you said. “I was just surprised, that’s all. Are you almost done here?”

“Yes, he is!” Lulwa called from behind the counter. “How fortuitous that I already had something that fit him. Once I have everything else tailored for your measurements, Lord Leclerc, I’ll have it sent to your address.”

“Thank you,” Yuri said with a warm smile, stepping down. “Where did you go, I wonder? I was hoping to get your opinion.”

You shrugged. “I don’t care much for clothes, I had an errand I forgot about earlier,” you said. He nodded. He didn’t believe you, either. Which was fine, a pair of liars like you could really only expect that from one another. You paid Lulwa and gave her your sincerest thanks before bidding her a good day.

Yuri drew fewer stares now that he was dressed appropriately, at least. That wasn’t saying much, however. It was like he was magnetic. You couldn’t help but be reminded of going out with Claude. He drew stares, too, even when you knew he wished he didn’t. 

“Are you hungry?” Yuri asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Hungry?” you asked, glancing up at the sky. The sun was in a far different spot than you thought it should be, it was far closer to dinner than lunch. “Oh, no. Actually, if you no longer need a guide, I’d like to get back to the palace. You _can_ get around on your own, can you not?”

Yuri smirked. “Sure I can, but I’ll be awfully lonely without you by my side. What if I get lost?”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t doubt that any woman in this city would be dying to help you.” Eying him up and down, you amended your statement. “Most of the men, too.”

“And here I only want you,” Yuri said so smoothly it almost sounded genuine.

You gaped at him for a second before trying to cover it by clearing your throat, looking everywhere besides his piercing gaze or smirking lips. “What a coincidence, I’d take just about anyone else besides you.”

“All this hostility!” Yuri said. “It really makes me wonder. Could it be that you’re in love with me?”

And you knew he was baiting you, that you should have left it at that. But it worked.

“I don’t trust you,” you finally said, the words coming out of their own accord. “I recognize the good you’ve done, really I do, but can you blame me for feeling a bit uneasy about having you around? There’s a reason I am what I am.. Or was...” you fumbled with those final words, feeling your chest clench.

And then it all made a terrible sort of sense.

Yuri reminded you of your personal failure. What you were meant to be, what your duty entailed, and how you had let everyone down by becoming intimate with your king. Remembering that conflict was like a slap across the face. Yuri wasn’t a choice, he couldn’t be, and you were afraid of what you’d feel if you saw him that way.

You looked up to tell him something of the sort, only to feel your despair disappear with a flash of anger. “Why are you smiling?” you demanded.

“Sorry,” Yuri said, shaking his head, his smile remaining fixed in place. “It’s just that you’re pretty cute when you’re all riled up, you know that?” When your expression darkened, he sighed, becoming serious. “You should know that the last thing I’d ever do is make a move against Claude. I owe him my life several times over and he can say the same about me. I think you and I could be good friends. If you were willing.” He was unwaveringly steady. “That’s all.”

“Why are you so insistent?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“I guess I just like you that much,” Yuri replied. “And, if I’m not mistaken, you like me, too. You just don’t want to admit it.”

You didn’t answer.

“You said it yourself, there’s a lot of people who would die to be so close to me. This isn’t an offer I make to anyone,” Yuri said.

“Friends,” you said dubiously.

“Nothing more, nothing less,” Yuri agreed. And he was attractive. Not just physically, although you couldn’t deny that he was devastatingly handsome, but charming. Asking to be friends while his eyes danced in a way that made you wonder if he meant more. Nothing about the man was an accident. It should have made him easier to read, but instead, the uncertain interpretation made him nebulous, difficult to pin down or understand. That’s what he wanted. A beautiful mystery. A deadly puzzle. As if you weren't already suffering one such enigma. And men insisted women were infuriating creatures!

“Fine,” you finally said, looking away before your eyes gave everything away. You had a bad feeling they already had. Besides, you were beginning to think that you didn’t actually have to worry about his intent. That had really only ever been an excuse, though. Your guard was desperate to give in to him. “I suppose we can be friends.”

“Wonderful.” Yuri’s smile was brilliant and contagious. “I’ll see you later, then, friend.”

* * *

Parties like this were your least favorite kind. Mingling was hardly worth the effort as most people didn’t drink enough to loosen their tongues and provide anything interesting, but they were too drunk to be useful. Most of the time all you’d get was sordid gossip with only the vaguest ties to the truth. But Claude had to attend to appease the host, so you did, too. And you listened, and mingled, and pretended like you wouldn’t prefer being anywhere else. Friends were important. People were important.

In theory, at least.

More than once, your thoughts strayed to Yuri. The boy in Sarsan Square had given you a good idea of what he was up to. You’d have given anything to be able to leave and investigate the lead. But you couldn’t. So, instead, between maddening bouts of inconsequential small talk, you wondered what Yuri was doing. Did he ever attend parties like this? Did he chat with people smoothly, flirtatiously, as he did with you? Did he drink? You wondered what it would look like to see him completely loose and relaxed, his cheeks painted with the flush of intoxication, his low voice slurred ever so slightly.

Suddenly guilty, your eyes flicked over to the king. Claude watched the festivities with dispassionate eyes, lounging with a cup of wine in hand and as he lent half an ear to the lord sitting at his side. Since returning to the palace that afternoon, you’d been able to avoid talking to him. For reasons you didn’t dare consider, just thinking about it made your insides twist with anxiety.

Right as you thought that, his gaze fixed on you.

Claude smiled, toasting you before finishing his drink, raising it again with an eyebrow quirked to ask a question. _Get me more?_ You were far above playing servant for him, but his eyes were pleading, too. Begging for company. He disliked these low-energy meaningless gatherings twice as much as you did. Besides, it was plainly obvious that you weren’t otherwise engaged and too late to pretend.

Swallowing down your anxiety, you snagged two cups of wine off a passing tray and approached the dais where the king’s chair had been placed, a small platform cluttered by cushions and low couches for the stray noble and sycophant trying to cozy up to royalty. It was a fad to surround the traditionally harsh militaristic furniture favored in Zerzura with plush reminders of opulent comfort. You thought it looked a little silly, but your tastes had always run in the direction of practicality.

“Your Majesty,” you said, managing a bow even a cup of wine in each hand. To approach him while he was speaking to someone was awfully improper, but he had asked. Claude often got away with things he shouldn’t have. His smile at your formality almost made you want to drop the pretense, a dangerous impulse.

“Please, sit,” Claude said. Then he cast a glance to the man at his side, opening his mouth to say something.

“I’ll take my leave, then,” the man said before he could, standing for a hasty bow and even hastier exit. People trying to beg favors off the king didn’t usually enjoy having an audience.

“Hear anything interesting?” Claude asked as he accepted his cup and you sat beside him, sinking into the cushions. It should have been comfortable, but you found it difficult to think so, especially with the way it placed you below Claude.

“You were right about Lady Salma,” you answered, sipping at your own wine in an attempt to ground yourself, to create an air of normalcy.

“Hah, I knew she wouldn’t stay faithful to that old dog,” Claude said, smiling at his little victory. You winced, guilt lurching in your stomach at the mention of the word “faithful”. If Claude noticed, he didn’t comment. “And how did things go with Yuri today? Was it as bad as you expected?”

“No, it wasn’t” you admitted, trying to keep a neutral expression.

"Well? Is he up to no good?" Claude asked playfully, either unaware of your reaction or ignoring it. The latter, most certainly, although you rather hoped it wasn’t.

"I'm not quite sure yet," you replied. "He probably is, but I’m also beginning to doubt that it’s my problem. Er, your problem.”

“He charmed you, didn’t he?” Claude teased, grinning. “He’s good at that, but I’d watch out. Yuri’s not really the romantic type. If you think he’s up to no good now-”

“He didn’t charm me,” you snapped, far too defensively considering Claude’s playful tone.

The silence, relatively speaking, after your outburst was unbearable. It forced you into awareness of certain discomforts you’d been ignoring thus far. Sweat prickling on your scalp, gathering between your shoulder blades. Air that was too warm, thick with body heat, and the scent of sweat sweetened by perfumes and body oils. Many voices that spoke at once, their laugher slightly too raucous. Everything was on edge. At parties like this, nobody was truly comfortable. Conversations were little more than a theatrical performance of attempted wit and snide comments.

And you? Were you any different?

In a snap decision, you downed the rest of the wine, grateful for now it made your mind buzz, how it made you a little bolder. A little more stupid, too. That was fine, what good had you ever done while in your right mind?

“Can we talk?” you asked. “Last night, what you said…”

“Wouldn’t you prefer to do this in private?” Claude asked. You met his eyes. Beautiful eyes. It was too dark to see the green, but they were just as lovely in shadow, surrounded by thick lashes and glittering with the warm lamplight. He was beautiful. Your eyes lingered on his full bottom lip and knew that you absolutely did not want to do this in private. You couldn’t trust yourself. Claude sighed as though he’d somehow read your thoughts. “Alright, out with it, then."

It took you a moment to gather yourself. You didn’t want to do this, but you had to. You absolutely had to. All of the heat in your body had risen to your head, making it dizzy with liquor and anxiety. You sounded the words out in your mouth before speaking them, but they were mush in your head, in your mouth. Finally, forcefully, "Claude, were you serious?” you asked. “About what you said last night. About choice."

"I'm always serious," he said, winking. You frowned. Then again, you knew well enough that the cheeky answer was very likely the honest one.

"You know, we never talked about what happened," you said with great difficulty. “We just pretended it didn’t happen. But it did and you never even acknowledged what you did or what you said.”

"There was no need,” Claude responded, tipping his head sideways contemplatively. “I made my point."

You felt an odd cold seize your chest. "You drugged me.”

"That I did,” he agreed, a slightly troubled expression knitting his eyebrows. Then, without missing a beat, his expression relaxed with such ease you could hardly believe you’d seen any sort of concern in the first place. “You know what they say, extreme circumstances and all that.”

“I’ve no idea what they say, actually,” you said faintly.

“Relationships rely on communication,” Claude said, breezing past your comment. “Well, I communicated my expectations to you. And we had some fun on top of it."

Something twisted low in your gut and you looked away, cheeks hot and stomach churning as you considered the use of the word fun. The gods knew how distinctly you could remember the pleasure, it was clearer than anything else about that night, even as much as you tried to put it out of mind. The wine had been a mistake.

"Look,” Claude continued, his voice more serious. “I did what I viewed as necessary because I care about you. I am sorry, but I don’t regret it."

You squeezed your eyes shut for a fraction of a second, trying to collect yourself. Because he cared about you. What were you supposed to do with that? How were you supposed to make sense of it? Was it even possible to reconcile everything without giving up a part of yourself?

No.

No, you didn’t think it was.

It was too difficult to think that, though, to figure out how to voice that particular concern. So you tried something easier, something that wasn’t so jagged of a wound. "If you care, why are you pushing me away?" you asked him, your voice accusatory as your eyes reopened. Pleading, even though you wished you weren’t. 

“You think I’m pushing you away?” Claude asked, frowning.

“What else would you call this?” you responded, gesturing widely, vaguely. Not to the party, but to all the nights you’d been alone with your cruel thoughts and mental turmoil.

"I’m trying to give you space,” he said, his expression serious. “Now that all my cards are on the table, you've got to make your play. I don’t want to influence that choice.” He sighed. “If it makes you feel any better, it’s hard on me, too. Do you have any idea how badly I want to kiss you, right here where everyone can see? Maybe more, too. I wonder if anyone would even stop me...” He paused, his head tilting and a small smile tugging on his lips. “Good thing I happen to possess flawless self-control.”

You looked away, feeling a familiar flush rush through you in reaction. That wine really had been a mistake. "What, so _now_ you're above using dirty tactics?"

Claude laughed. "Far from it. Maybe I'm just hoping you'll start to miss me so much you have no choice but to throw yourself into my arms."

"But of my own volition,” you said, feeling a crushing sense of resignment with that word. It should have pleased you to know that it was up to you, but everything Claude had piled behind the concept of choice made it feel heavy, ungainly.

“You’re getting it.”

You sighed, watching the party. You wished, for the first time since you were very young, that you could submit to the revel in the same way as they did. To turn off the thinking parts of your brain and just experience things helplessly, happily. You’d felt that with Claude, before. Now it was all wrong. You could throw yourself into his arms as he said, but would it be the same? Was that even what you wanted?

You didn’t know.

* * *

Beneath you, wheels trundled across the ground, the inside of the cab jostling with each imperfection in the road. Outside the shuttered windows you could hear the clip-clop of horse hooves and the familiar thrum of the Royal Quarter. Switchbacks were common enough in the city to make this method of transportation slow and rather impractical, but it wasn’t by your own choice. Nobody knew you’d hitched a ride in the carriage sent to fetch Yuri for the night’s festivities. It was overstepping certain proprietary boundaries, maybe, but this was _important_. You could not wait the entire night with this conversation burning your tongue, not now that you had it all figured.

Impatiently, you readjusted in your seat, trying to peek between the blinds to judge where you were. Normally, you’d have spent this time getting ready before the celebration. Then again, you were about as groomed as you were going to get. There was only so much makeup you could apply before growing bored of the past time. Besides, you were self-conscious about sending the wrong idea to certain individuals. Namely, a certain enigmatic king and smirking foreigner.

At this point, you could only really admit that you enjoyed spending time with Yuri. Over the week, you’d begun to think that he did deserve the title of friend. A strange experience. So far in life, you could count on your fingers the number of people you'd happily call your friends. Some part of your mind worried about that, worried that you only had grown close because of your vulnerability as Claude continued the charade of waiting for some undetermined choice you were meant to make. Worried that you were using the innocent title to describe someone who was undeniably handsome and charming and seemingly interested. But you liked Yuri, beyond those things. You really did, even if he was infuriating sometimes. Besides, he would be leaving soon. You kept reminding yourself of that as a sort of safeguard against whatever you felt. It was temporary. It was okay to feel whatever you did because after he left, it would all be in the past. It barely mattered.

And yet-

The carriage came to a rolling stop and you knew you’d reached your destination. Taking a deep breath, you adjusted your skirt, smoothed your hands over the intricate braids your hair had been arranged into. Since you’d left the shop while he was arranging things, you had no idea what Lulwa had come up with for Yuri’s formal wear. You were soon to find out, though, and detesting how excited the thought made you.

Anticipation broke when the coach opened the door, surprising you into looking up, eyes landing immediately on him. Yuri was half poised in front of the door, a captivating figure in white among a world of color. Except for the back panel of the jacket which was done in gradient grays and black, Yuri's clothes were all pristine, the silk fluttering delicately in places and fitted tight to his figure in others, a mixture of Almyran and Fòdlan styles. It confused you for a moment, the optical trick tickling some part of your mind as you stared. He looked like… Like a mockingbird, you realized.

Yuri caught your wide-eyed stare and smiled, taking your breath away all over again.

“I wasn’t told I’d be getting an escort,” Yuri said as he climbed inside. The door shut the two of you into seclusion and he dragged his eyes across you as he took the seat adjacent to yours. It was uncomfortable, but you didn’t mind it, either. If the way his mouth quirked was anything to go by, you hadn’t spent all that time on getting ready for nothing. “And such a cute one, too. It must be my lucky day.”

“I’m not actually here,” you said, refusing to give in to the impulse to ogle. “So don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Couldn’t keep yourself away?” Yuri asked, smirking as he tapped the carriage ceiling to send it forward.

“Nope,” you agreed, matching his smile. “See, I figured it all out. Why you’re here, I mean.”

Yuri raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware it was a mystery,” he said. “I’m here because I was invited by Claude to attend a feast and, yes, I believe this is the carriage that he sent for me. Ostensibly to go to the palace, but that smile makes me wonder…”

“Don’t try to be cute,” you said, rolling your eyes.

He scoffed. “I hardly have to try.”

“Really? I find you very trying,” you told him, momentarily distracted by your amusement at the banter. “Don’t change the subject! I think I know what you’re up to here in Zerzura.”

“Don’t say that you still don’t trust me,” Yuri said, frowning.

“No, it’s not that,” you said, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s not like you’re doing anything _illegal,_ right? The import of legal timber and goods, the construction of legal Almyran merchant ships, paying crews to transport goods —all of it is legitimate. Buuuut, it points to one thing. International trade is risky, but, hypothetically speaking, I bet most countries would be more willing to accept Almyran merchant vessels than the war rigs Fódlan repurposed from their war with Brigid. Even _if_ a person could afford them. Am I right?”

“That’s certainly an interesting theory,” Yuri responded, his voice measured and eyes giving nothing away. Not that you’d expended he would.

“I think so, too,” you said. “And, you know, I hear that there are some pretty strict laws in place since the war that make trading in and out of Fódlan more difficult. Not to mention expensive. Something about the post-war economy, I think?”

“Something like that.”

“Then it would make more sense to trade out of Almyra even if a person were doing business in Fódlan. Especially if they had good friends ensuring their safety through Fódlan’s Throat and guaranteed protection from people in high places. It would be slightly illegal, but of course, this is all just a theory. So what do you think? Hypothetically speaking.”

“Hypothetically speaking,” Yuri said slowly, considering you with narrowed eyes, “I’ve got half a mind to steal you back to Fodlan.”

You blinked in shock. “Excuse me?”

“That mind of yours could be useful to a guy like me. I thought it would take you at least another week before you got it all worked out.”

“Oh, um, well,” you said, trying to fight off the warm feeling of mollification that followed his reaction, to keep yourself collected. “Anyone could have figured it all out if they just thought about it.”

Yuri laughed. It was an easy sound, light and genuine. It made your pulse quicken. “You’d be surprised. Remind me what is it that you do for Claude, again?”

“It’s my job to do the things that the king cannot be involved with,” you answered automatically. “Information, under the table deals —that sort of thing. Ideally, I’d be completely independent so he wouldn’t have to dirty his hands at all...” You trailed off there, doubt weakening your words.

“But?” Yuri prompted.

You frowned at him. “I shouldn’t be talking to you about this.”

“You’re the one who started it. Besides, who am I going to tell?”

That was hardly comforting. What you really should have been afraid of was how easy it was to want to be honest with Yuri, to let down your guard and relax. After only a week together, you were willing to tell him things you doubted you’d tell anyone else.

You were an idiot. A fool.

“Claude has made it clear that he does not, under any circumstances, approve of me dirtying my hands like that. Ever since we… It’s like he doesn’t want me to fulfill my duty. He wants…” You shook your head. “I don’t know what he wants. And the thing is, I can’t think of a single really good reason why.”

“You can’t?” Yuri asked, raising an eyebrow.

“None that I like,” you said. After a second, you made a sound of exasperation. “Everything was going well! I’m good at this. I’ve trained all my life for it! It was good but then he made it all so complicated and he… He… Well, regardless, now I can’t do anything without Claude’s approval and I can’t just lie to him about it and he keeps making it worse by talking about...” About your relationship, but you couldn't tell Yuri that. You cleared your throat. "He keeps making it worse by being Claude and I'm not sure what to do. I’ve never had a choice and now that I do, I wish I didn’t." Your lips twisted into a wry smile. “It’s so dramatic. Not to mention petty. But I-I have no idea what I’m meant to do.”

You studied your hands as they twisted together in your lap. You’d come here to confront Yuri with the truth, to tease out your moment of superiority over him. And instead, you’d ended up confessing the worries that had plagued you, willingly giving up the truth with only your poor impulse control to blame.

“You’re really adorable, you know that?” Yuri said, making your shoulders tense, your head snapping up.

“What does that have to do with anything?” you asked, hating the way a blush lept to your cheeks, just waiting to blaze at his whim.

“Everything, nothing.” Yuri paused, holding your eyes steady. “Run away with me. I really could use a mind like yours on my side. And with your training… I have a feeling you could be a very valuable asset.”

You blinked, shock delaying any real reaction. “Leave Almyra?” you asked in a flat voice.

“Sure.”

“Give up my position in court to be a common criminal in Fodlan?”

“Why not?” Yuri responded. “I have a feeling you and I could have a hell of a good time.”

You considered it. For the span of several seconds, you could almost imagine doing as he said. It was crazy and impulsive and stupid but there was an allure to such a simple solution to all of your problems. Running away with Yuri. Did he mean more with that? He flirted and smirked and made you think that he was interested, but you’d begun to assume it was all just pretend.

A hell of a good time. That sounded-

“That’s possibly the silliest proposition I’ve ever gotten,” you finally said, looking away, trying to smother the silly part of yourself that begged for you to agree to that idea. Yuri laughed and without looking at him, you couldn’t tell if he was disappointed. Even if you were brave enough to check you doubted in your ability to tell, considering his poker face.

“Let me know when you change your mind, yeah?”

You peeked at him sideways, but he was just smiling. Teasing. “Don’t you mean if?”

“Haven’t you realized by now?” he asked. “I always say exactly what I mean.”


	3. Chapter 3

Celebrations; that is, the festivities put on by the nobility that had nothing to do with war or victory; were a delight. No foods were finer. No drinks were sweeter. No expense was ever spared. Lights, smoke, opulence —sometimes you wondered if you’d grow accustomed to it all, become bored of it. Then the magnitude of wealth overwhelmed you, pushing you to slink back into the shadows to recover. Not before dancing, though. Unlike in the west, the nobility of Almyra hardly ever danced at kings’ feasts or celebrations. To most, that was seen as rather prissy. Feminine. But since Yuri was Claude’s guest, an exception was made. Besides, most people knew the Fódlan waltz by now. Albeit, a rather different version of it. Almyrans would hardly accept a silly, prim dance without putting a certain spin on it. Yuri, for all of his complaining about being forced into it, was an unnaturally quick study. His grace didn’t falter for a second and his hands had lingered on you in a way that made you shiver when the song was over.

Shaking your head of the memory, you blinked into focus, staring at yourself in the mirror as you combed out your braids and the beads you’d woven into them. Most girls would have a maid help with the sort of thing, but you didn’t much mind doing it on your own. You only wished your heart was as easy to sort out as your hair. That is to say, an utter nightmare, but manageable. By the end of it all, your hair was mostly forced into submission and hanging loose around your shoulders, the waves and curls getting lost in a mix of disarray.

And you still had no idea what to make of Yuri Leclerc.

Or Claude, the magnificent King of Unification.

Or your feelings.

Sighing, you stood from the vanity and left your dressing room for your bedroom proper, putting out the candles and deciding you just needed to lay down.

There, in the near-dark doorway of your room, you froze. 

It’s not like you were paranoid. Careful was the better word. You were careful about safety because it was important. Because it was important, you were certain you’d locked your door. That was something that went beyond habit and into compulsion.

Unfortunately, you were also certain that there was someone in your room, a formless shadow as your eyes struggled to adjust. On instinct, you fell back into a fighting stance, mentally cataloging where the nearest weapon would be.

“Identify yourself,” you said in a voice that sounded nothing like your own, portraying a strength you certainly didn’t feel.

And he _laughed_. Gods, you knew that laugh. It practically haunted you.

“Don’t you recognize me?” he asked, his voice dripping humor at the cruel prank.

“Yuri!” you exclaimed, partially out of frustration but mostly from relief. It washed over you before you could rationalize that letting your guard down was still a stupid idea, blinking rapidly as you tried to make him out better through the dim light. “What are… How did you get in here?”

You cast a glance at your open balcony door, watching the way the curtains billowed and the shadows in your room danced from the vague ambient light outside. But that was impossible, there were no footholds that would allow the climb, let alone the fact that the guard that would surely notice anyone attempting to scale palace walls.

“Do you really want to know?” he asked.

“What?” you asked, bristled with confusion and alarm as you returned to a state of defense. He looked intimidating as a shadow. Wrong, somehow, wearing all that white. “Of course I do.”

“Mm, and what will you give me in return?”

You fumbled to the lamp and lit it, illuminating your room. Yuri stood innocently in the middle of the mess, smiling. He looked far less physically intimidating in the light, weaponless and slender. Now he was merely intimidating because of his beauty. And the two of you were alone. Relatively isolated. In your private bedroom.

Exhaling slowly to calm yourself, you considered him. “There’s no way you could have gotten in through the outside balcony,” you said. “Did you pick the lock?”

“Maybe,” Yuri said, walking towards you.

“Well it’s the only explanation that makes _sense_ ,” you muttered sullenly. Although, even that raised some flags. You put an awful lot of faith in those locks. There were more important things to focus on, however. Namely, outrage that he’d intrude like this. “What are you doing here, lurking around in the dark? You could get in trouble for this, you know. I’ve half a mind to call for the-”

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Yuri interjected. “I thought you might want to say goodbye. That’s all.”

Your heart lurched, surprise and anger driven from your mind. The response was so shocking that it left you breathless, made it take a moment longer to formulate the right words. “You’re not.”

His head cocked. “But I just said that I am. You’re going to miss me, yeah?”

And that was the thing. It wasn’t shocking that Yuri would leave, you’d known he would the whole time. But you didn’t want him to.

“I,” you said slowly, trying to hide your thoughts, “might.”

“Come on, not even a little bit?” He took another step. It was casual, but you couldn’t help but notice the way his movements were caging you in against the wall. Your heart was beating a little too hard, still fast from your earlier panic. Your body pulsed with it, bringing heat across your neck, to your cheeks. 

“I just said that I might.”

“You can do better than that.” Yuri's steps were silent, his body swaying in a way that looked perfectly natural for all that it had to have been entirely intentional as he closed the last few feet of distance between you. The scent of aromatic smoke, something fresh mixing in with the natural warm scent of his skin, and sweet cologne overwhelmed you.

“Yuri…” You said his name uncertainly, almost like a question. 

“Yes?” he asked, smirking. Only a little taller than you. Funny, he always seemed so grand to you. Larger than life, in a way. You should have taken a step back, tried to get space, but you didn’t. You just stood there on your bare feet and looked at him like a fool. “Your pupils are very dilated,” Yuri said. “Are you afraid of me? Or… Could it be… _attraction_?” Amusement crossed his face, voice lowering. “You can admit it. There’s nobody around to hear you besides me.”

“I will miss you,” you told him, sidestepping the question that sunk deep and low into your gut for the easier, more innocent one. “You should stay, just a while longer.”

Yuri’s smile became wry, his eyebrows furrowing. “I can’t. But you could always come with me.”

“I can’t,” you echoed, hating the disappointment you felt in saying it. You’d only really known Yuri —actually gotten to know him— for a week. The idea that he’d ask once was beyond ridiculous, let alone twice. But you considered it anyway and felt hurt when you had to recognize it as an impossibility.

Why? Were you really so much of a coward that you’d run away from Claude and the game he was playing? Or would running away be seen as a facet of the so-called “choice” he peddled? What was it about him, about your relationship, that scared you so acutely? Something so bad that it made you wish to escape from the city itself.

“What’s going on behind those eyes, I wonder,” Yuri said when you didn’t elaborate further. “You know that I’m kidding, right?”

“And if I agreed?” you asked, attempting a playful smile to drive away your tumultuous thoughts.

Yuri shrugged. “Heh, that’d be some joke, yeah? But it would never happen.”

Your smile fell. “No, it wouldn’t. I’m not spontaneous enough for something like that.”

“It’s that brain of yours working against you,” Yuri said. “Always thinking such troublesome little thoughts when it shouldn’t be.”

“But never thinking properly when it should,” you countered. “Sometimes I figure I’d be better off as a genuine idiot, never thinking at all.”

“Nonsense. That would be unbelievably dull. How could I have any fun at all with an idiot? Watching you second guess my every word and refuse to give in to my charms is…” Yuri’s head tilted as he searched for a word, a devious expression crossing his face. “Refreshing.” Something about the dark look in his eyes made you think that wasn’t quite what he meant. The fact that he’d skirt around a word more vulgar made it more effective.

“If that’s how you feel, perhaps _you’d_ be better off as an idiot,” you told him with a forced playfulness, refusing to give in to the flustered butterflies he conjured. “Life must be awfully tedious for a man like you.”

Yuri laughed. “Trust me, I know how to make the most of it.”

“Care to share how?” you asked. “I’ve been trying, but every time I do it comes back to haunt me.”

Yuri didn’t answer right away, his smile fading as he studied you intently. The feeling was uncomfortable, making you want to laugh it away and backtrack. To dig yourself out of this particular hole and back to the flirtatious fun. He spoke up before you could.

“Tell me what it is that you want. Be honest,” Yuri said. _Gods_ , his voice was low, soft. If he weren’t so close, you weren’t sure you’d hear him at all. “Maybe I can help.”  
  
“Do you demand the truth?” you asked, your voice a whisper.

Yuri smiled. “A lie from your mouth is worth twice as much as anybody else’s truth. I’m certain it would sound even more sweet.”

“Oh, but the truth can be awfully sweet sometimes, too,” you said, your voice even softer.

“Heh. A little too sweet, no?” he asked knowingly. What exactly he knew and what he might have guessed was impossible for you to figure out. You felt as if you’d have more luck trying to take hold of a moonbeam and climb to the heavens. It was infuriating, and a little frightening.

And you didn’t mind it. Not right then.

“I don’t know what I want,” you finally admitted. “And that’s not a lie.”

Yuri scrutinized your expression, thoughts churning behind his eyes. “Indecision is really eating you up inside, yeah?” You said nothing, which was answer enough. “Well, wound tight as you are, it’s only a matter of time before you snap. You don’t have to commit to anything, you know. Since it seems you won’t come with me, we both have lives to get back to.” He brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, startling you into looking at him. “Who knows, maybe it’ll help you move on. Spend tonight with me, will you? I’m certain I can help you to forget whatever it is that’s making you so miserable.”

His offer and all of the implications therein should have disgusted you. Terrified you. Rejection on your part should have been swift and without question. But you looked at Yuri and you couldn’t look away. Maybe it would be alright. As he said, perhaps it could help you to forget, just for a moment. Without Claude on your mind, maybe you could think clearly.

“Not here,” you finally said.

“Back to Silkstone?” he asked. You thought of the fine inn with its heavy wooden furniture and the lingering scent of black tea and smoke. You could picture Yuri’s neatly made bed and an orderly lineup of clothes in the closet, a comb and a few bottles on the vanity, and a small stack of books and papers on the nightstand. A place which bore no traces of Claude.

Then you thought of how you would get there. You and Yuri could play nice, keep your hands to yourself until you were shut in private, but the lustful trail of lovers would infect the palace, sweep across the familiar streets of Zerzura forevermore. It would forever be like a ghost in the air, a memory.

Your eyes dropped to his lips. They looked soft. Other than Claude, you’d never been intimate with anyone. Was Yuri as skilled as he seemed? Would he kiss you with those soft lips and expertise that would empty your mind of all else? What would his hands, those elegant pale hands, feel like against your skin?

You swallowed hard, feeling heat rise into your cheeks beneath the fingers he rested there. Yuri was close enough for you to smell him, to see the individual threads of color in his violet eyes. He made it sound so easy. And you wanted him. He was seductive and elusive and beautiful and playful and you were sure you could get lost in that, certain that the seductive embrace of purple could help cleanse you of the unrelenting green.

All it would take was a little nod of your head and you’d be committed. It wasn’t as if it had been too terribly hard to convince you in the first place. You wanted him. Lusted for him.

But then the wind snuck in through the open window, fluttering the curtains. Playful, flirtatious. And you knew you couldn’t. No more than you could leave Almyra. No more than you could leave Claude. 

Claude. You closed your eyes and could only see his face, hear his voice. He wasn’t seductive like Yuri, he didn’t even care to be. And right then you weren’t thinking about him as your king or the man to whom you owed absolute loyalty or even as the one who had betrayed your trust with that sweet, sweet poison. He was Claude. And anyone else was wrong. Guilt sickened you as you continued to stand there, breathing in the light, fresh fragrance that filled the air around Yuri, the wrong hand holding your face up to his.

Gods. You loved him.

He betrayed your trust and confused you and hurt you and you loved him, adored him entirely. There was no choice in that, it was predestined. Like you had always loved Claude, it just took your head a while to catch up to the cruel fact.

Opening your eyes, you broke free of Yuri’s grasp, turning your face away.

“I can’t,” you told him. “I’m sorry.”

“You can’t?” Yuri asked, raising an eyebrow. You clenched your fists at your sides, forcing yourself to remain calm as shame swelled up in your throat, thick and nauseating.

“I don’t want to,” you clarified firmly. “It’s not you, it’s-”

“Me?” Yuri asked with a wry smirk.

“Yeah, that,” you said awkwardly. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t intend to lead you on-” Didn’t you? It seemed obvious now that you would have never gone through with this. You weren’t capable.

“It’s because of him, yeah?” Yuri asked. He didn’t even need to give a name. Claude might as well have been right there in the room for as much as you felt his presence and Yuri was no fool.

“Yeah,” you agreed quietly. “If it weren’t for him, I-” you didn’t finish that thought, it didn’t matter to say what might have been because it wasn’t, because it couldn’t be.

“I get it,” Yuri said, stepping away. You took in a shaky breath, glad to be given space. “Mind if I help myself to a drink?”

Your eyes snapped up. He’d wandered over to the side cabinet where you kept a few bottles of wine, looking over the labels with a discerning eye. “You’re staying?” you asked.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to try anything. We’re still friends, right?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at you with a little smile.

“Friends,” you repeated. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Then open that door, will you?” Yuri said, gesturing towards the door which opened into the hidden passage between yours and Claude’s rooms. “I have a feeling that we're about to have a visitor.” Although you hadn’t given him permission, he selected a bottle and lined up the glasses. Three of them.

Three.

The question you were about to ask died on your tongue and you hurried to the door masquerading as a bookcase, throwing it open. Standing stock-still on the other side, Claude looked nearly as surprised as you felt.

“Claude.” Your voice was breathless. “Were you listening?” you demanded, panic rising hot and fast and dizzying in your head. He blinked.

“Me? Nah. I was about to knock, actually.” He grinned, barely possessing the decency to look abashed. “Just trying to think of a good enough excuse so you’d invite me in.” He looked pointedly at Yuri. “Seems I got beaten to it, though.”

“I thought I’d stop by,” Yuri said in answer to the unasked question, adapting to Claude’s presence without missing a beat. He turned with a drink in hand and an unimpressed expression on his face. “As you know, I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“Uh-huh. It’s awfully late,” Claude noted, entering your room and shutting the door behind him. You allowed it, far too disoriented to properly object.

“It is,” Yuri said noncommittally. When Claude just continued to watch him expectantly, he rolled his eyes. “If you must know, I was trying to seduce her.” Just like that. Your breath caught, eyes widening as guilt lurched into your gut. His tone was flippant and casual, eyes narrowing slightly. “But you already knew that, yeah?”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Claude asked, feigning affronted confusion. He was too dramatic about it, a purposefully bad lie.

Yuri rolled his eyes. “It means you were right, so you can drop the act.”

“I assure you, I am being _completely_ sincere,” Claude said before looking at you with his too-keen eyes. “Yuri on the other hand... You can never be too careful with a guy like him. So, is it true?” There was nothing hard in his voice, no sign that Yuri had riled him. He was asking you a question in the way that often got on your nerves, one eyebrow quirked with a knowing sense of curiosity as if he were merely humoring you.

“Yes,” you said, the truth coming out before you could revise it. “But Claude, I didn’t… We didn’t do anything.”

“I know,” Claude said, regarding you with a nearly patronizing smile. “You know that you’re probably the first woman to ever turn him down.”

Yuri rolled his eyes. “She’s not. But even if she was, that was the point, yeah?” He paused, then added under his breath, “I’ll admit, it did sting a bit. Just a bit, though.”

There was something more to this that you didn't understand, something to the lack of tension between the two men, the friendly way they regarded each other. Claude’s entrance, Yuri’s lack of surprise. You had the sinking suspicion you were being played somehow, you just couldn’t see how.

“The point of _what_?” you asked Yuri. “What’s going on?”

“Don’t ask me,” he said innocently. “Unfortunately, I think we’ve both been played by His Majesty here.” His eyes narrowed at Claude, chin tilting upward just slightly.

“Astute as ever, Yuri,” Claude said. “You’re right, of course, although there’s no reason to be so dramatic about it all. It’s not like I _forced_ you to do anything. If you really think about it, I should be the one who’s upset.”

“But you’re not,” you said.

Claude tilted his head as he looked at you, his lips pursing. “No, I’m not,” he agreed neutrally.

“You owe us an explanation," Yuri said.

Claude sighed, then nodded. "I guess I do. But let’s sit first. I’ll have that drink, too.”

“What about you,” Yuri asked, holding out the third glass to you.

“What’d you put in it?” you questioned, regarding the wine like it was a dangerous weapon.

Yuri’s lips twitched. “A dry red. You’ve got good taste.”

“Potions aren’t really Yuri’s style,” Claude said, breezing past you with his glass in hand to sit at your table. “He lacks my creative vision.”

“If that’s what you call it,” Yuri said, leaving the cup on the bar and sitting down on the settee.

You shifted from foot to foot for a second before taking the glass and sitting lightly at the edge of your bed, too wary to sit close to either man.

“Are you sure you’re comfortable like that?” Claude asked. “You could always come and-”

“Explain,” you told him.

“Patience is a virtue, you know,” he said. Neither you nor Yuri responded, making him sigh again like you were the ones being dramatic. “I realized recently that I might have pushed a little too hard to try and make you see things my way. See the truth, really. Ironic, isn’t it? That the only person who didn’t see what you felt was you,” Claude finally said, meeting your eyes evenly. “The problem is that you’re a bit more stubborn than I anticipated. If I want you to understand something, it has to be a conclusion you come to on your own.”

You frowned. “What?”

“And that’s where I came in,” Yuri said in understanding, seemingly comprehending something you yourself could not grasp.

“I don’t get it,” you admitted, frustrated as you looked between them.

“I was pretty sure that, given the opportunity, you’d probably still go for a guy that’s, well, like me,” Claude explained. “Yuri’s arrival was so opportune I can only believe it was an act of fate.”

“Damn,” Yuri cursed softly, leaning back in his chair. “I knew you were up to something when you all but threw her at me, but I figured you were just trying to see how loyal she was. Didn’t think you were so interested in the psychological, Claude.”

Understanding, at least some form of it, hit you. After so long with him, you could see the outline of Claude’s logic. Kind of. By making you realize you didn’t want anyone else, you’d also realize that you wanted him. And you had done just that, played right into his scheme. It wasn't missing him that would have you throwing yourself back into his arms, but the realization that you wanted to be there. The realization that anywhere else was wrong. The realization that you loved him.

“That’s insane,” you said, a hollow feeling in your stomach as the events of the past week and all of the heartache you’d suffered rushed over you. “And egotistical, and-”

“Ah, ah, but I was right,” Claude said, cutting you off. “Wasn’t I?”

“But for what purpose?” you asked. “You… Both of you played me for a fool.”

“I prefer to think of it as a learning experience,” Claude said. “Yuri learned how to gracefully face rejection, I learned that I —as usual— was right, and you learned that you’re more than capable of choice.”

Your stomach twisted. “Choice?”

“Yup. And you chose me,” Claude said, his smile bright and earnest. “All that pesky doubt should be gone. That was my hypothesis, at least.”

“So you set up this entire elaborate experiment to, what, make me choose? Choose you?” you asked, incredulous and hollow. “What if I had accepted his advances?”

“That was never going to happen,” Claude said. “Er, no offense, Yuri.”

“None taken,” Yuri said with a slight roll of his eyes.

“But even if you had,” Claude continued, thinking as he swirled the wine around in the glass. “I knew you wouldn’t do it here. If I had come tonight and you were gone, then I’d know.”

“And he told you that, after the feast,” you said to Yuri, eyes narrowed. “That’s why you knew he’d be coming. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wouldn't want anything to interfere with your decision,” Yuri responded. Unrepentant. “I almost got you, didn’t I?”

“So this was all just a game. A lie. You lied to me,” you said. “Both of you.”

“Calm down, we didn’t lie to you,” Claude said. “I told you what I was doing and Yuri… Call him what you will but if he didn’t want you, he wouldn’t have tried so hard. Everything else was all you.”

“You say that, but it doesn’t sound like I had a choice at all,” you said.

“You’ve always had a choice,” Claude said, holding your eyes. “But I know you, so I knew you’d make the right ones. You _chose_ to stay with me. You _chose_ to turn him down. All of this is really only a consequence of _your_ choices. Made with a clear head and what I can only assume to be a heavy heart, assuming that look of guilt was anything to go by.”

You chewed on that for a moment, processing those words and what they were supposed to mean, fighting off the sinking ache of betrayal. “You realize how convoluted this was? Not to mention manipulative, cruel, hurtful-”

“I know,” Claude said, waving his hands to cut you off. “I fully admit that this was a bizarre way to make my point. But I _needed_ for you to understand so we could move forward. After everything that’s happened, you chose me. Isn’t that pretty telling?”

You frowned. It was a lost cause to argue with him about this. Not when he was right. Did he know that you loved him? Was it obvious to him in a way it hadn’t been to you? Obvious to everyone, he said. You wondered for how long. If you had ever been fooling anyone besides yourself.

“I had to know, too,” Claude said when you didn’t reply, his voice softer. There was a softness to the admission, a heart-rending tenderness in his eyes. All of the anger that had been building within you puffed into dust, unable to stand up to the weight of Claude’s intensity. “And now we know. Things worked out just fine in the end.”

Just fine.

“I didn’t realize you were such a romantic, Claude,” Yuri said dryly.

Claude smiled, looking towards his friend with his confident air back in place. “I guess I have no choice but to take that as a compliment. Love does strange things to us all.”

Love, he said.   
  
"Is that what it is?” Yuri asked, raising an eyebrow. "Whatever, I can tell when I've lost." He looked at you. "So, what do you think? Should we forgive him?”

You blinked, your answer taking a second as you digested his question. “We?”

“I was played, too,” Yuri said. “All I really wanted was a chance with you. I never lied about how I felt. All apart of Claude’s master plan, I suppose. So, should we forgive him?”

“I don’t know,” you replied honestly. Love, that word kept ringing in your ears in Claude’s mentally-distorted voice.

“Heh, things aren’t looking good for you, my friend,” Yuri said, looking at Claude.

“Hey, don’t conspire against me like I’m not even here,” Claude objected. He looked at you, eyes round and lower lip pushed out in a pout. "You're not _actually_ mad, right?"

"This is all… You're unbelievable," you got out, still reeling.

"Is that a no?" Claude asked hopefully.

You said nothing, struggling for coherence as a thousand emotions played through you indecisively. Anger, hurt, embarrassment, relief, all of them at once.

Love.

“You know,” Yuri said, the words hanging with tantalizing promise, “there is one way we could resolve this. You'll be wanting to make things right with me, too, yeah? So why don't we all kiss and make up?"

Kiss and make up. It took you a second, but you got it. Kind of. Enough to send a hot rush of embarrassment through you. Yuri showed no sign of shame or doubt, watching the two of you with an unreadable half smile. He didn’t seem mad in the slightest anymore.

“And you're including yourself in this proposed solution?” Claude slowly asked after a long moment of silence.

“Of course,” Yuri responded smoothly. “This _is_ what you intended, yeah?”

“Me?” Claude asked, laying it on way too thickly to seem genuine. He wasn’t even trying, really, because there was a definite spark of interest in his gaze as he eyed the other man. “Oh, I would never. See, I’d hate to feel like I was taking advantage of anyone.”

Yuri snorted a laugh. “Right.” He looked at you. “You turned me down because of your loyalty to Claude, yeah? Well, if he’s right here _partaking_ in it, then there’s no conflict, now is there? You can enjoy yourself guilt free.” He brushed his hair back, a practiced movement meant to highlight his features. His beauty. He smiled.

Guilt free.

“What do you get out of it?” you asked him after a long moment, unsure of what to think one way or another. It was surreal, things had changed too much, too quickly.

“That should be pretty obvious, I’m getting something I’ve wanted since that very first night,” Yuri said, meeting your eyes without a hint of shame and a smirk on his lips. "You.”

“That’s it?” you asked dubiously. You had been willing to believe he’d want you when all the power was in his favor, but that wasn’t the case anymore, was it? No, things were different. You couldn’t understand what he was thinking.

“Well,” Yuri shrugged, “not to mention Claude-”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Yuri,” Claude cut in, although his voice wasn’t severe. “I’m not that easy.”

“-And besides, I’m curious,” Yuri continued, breezing past Claude’s interjection. “Everyone is a little different in the bedroom. I have more than a few theories about you. It’d be a shame to not get to test them out before I leave, especially when you’ve surpassed all of my expectations so far. So don’t you worry your pretty little head, I’ll be getting plenty out of it. Enough to forgive my dear friend Claude for using me in his little scheme.”

“Still sore about being turned down, huh?” Claude asked.

Yuri’s smile didn’t falter. “Something like that.”

“I suppose I’m game if she is. I’m a bit curious myself,” Claude said. “I’d love to hear your theories. Maybe we could compare notes.” He turned to you, head lolling to the side in a playful way. “What do you say?”

You swallowed. Hard. Trying to buy time while they both watched. Claude’s gaze was bad enough to suffer, but Yuri, too? It was enough to make you burn, to blaze. Finally, you asked, “It’s my choice?”

Yuri raised an eyebrow. “What on earth do you mean? Do you really think I’d _need_ to force you?” The answer was obvious. Of course not. People didn’t just tell Yuri no. He paused, as if considering something. “Then again, that might not be such a bad idea. You strike me as the kind of girl who wouldn’t mind that kind of thing.” He smirked. “Am I right?”

You didn’t respond, taken aback by the question. By his voice. He was beautiful and seductive and unspeakably dangerous and annoyingly presumptuous.

“I am, aren’t I?”

“A word of warning, Yuri, she might seem timid now, but she bites,” Claude warned.

“I bet you do,” Yuri said, undeterred. If anything, his smirk had only grown. “You know what I think? Here’s my first theory: I think that Claude had a tough time convincing you into bed. You protested and blushed —quite adorably, I’m sure— but that was just a matter of proprietary and respect and all the other excuses you could think of to prolong the game because really, it was only a matter of time before you lost and you both knew it. I think that you loved every second of the chase but you loved losing to him even more.

“Yeah, I know your type. You played at being coy and aloof but secretly you wanted nothing more than to be pinned down and used to his heart’s content.” He paused, letting the words sink in. Whatever he found in your expression made him smile broadly, eyes sparkling. “Bullseye, yeah?”

An objection formed and posed itself on your tongue as a knee-jerk reaction but your voice didn’t quite come. You were mute as you looked at Yuri’s mischievous eyes and smirking mouth and were aware of Claude’s presence beside you with such acuity that you could practically feel his gaze and realized that denying it would only make you seem guilty of all his accusations. On some level, you were more than aware that your head was clear. No sweet drug infecting your mind, nothing directly challenging your thought process or manipulating your body. But the confusion remained. The disorientation. This was all too much at once, to be toyed around with so mercilessly was more than enough to scramble your mind. It wasn’t fair or sane. So why? Why was it working?

Because he was right. Kind of.

“You’re not doing a very good job of winning me over,” you said finally said. Carefully, carefully, forcing yourself to remain steady, to not relent.

“Personally, I’m intrigued,” Claude said. “I think you might be on to something with this theory of yours.”

“You’re really okay with this?” you asked him, frowning. Not because you didn’t want it, but because the wanting it scared you. But if he said it was okay… Well, you’d already made your choice, hadn’t you?

“Why not?” Claude asked. “Unless you’re not interested…”

“I-I guess,” you said uncertainly. “I am. I mean, I do.” Taking a deep breath, you met Yuri’s eyes. “What, exactly, do you want?”

“Just some fun is all,” he responded innocently. But that smile was anything but. Yuri had taken everything in stride and moved on. Of course, your rejection had probably been expected, even if he hadn’t known Claude’s plan in full. He wasn’t stupid. No, just insane. That was the only thing that this easy tip into lust could mean, wasn’t it? Some flavor of insanity. But, at the same time, it made sense. Desire was the root of your problems, but it was also the salve, the reward. That was just how it was. How it had been since the start, since the day you met Claude.

“This is crazy,” you muttered, peeking at Claude in a desperate search for reason. A mistake, he was just as insane as Yuri. More, with those endless schemes of his.

What did that make you, sane? That was laughable. You were going along with this. That made you the worst of the bunch.

“Hey,” Yuri said gently. “Relax, will you? You want me, don’t you?” Surprised by the bluntness of the question, you nodded. “And you want Claude, right?” Again, a nod. “And you trust us?”

You hesitated, making Claude laugh.

“Ouch,” he said.

“I-I trust you won’t hurt me,” you said, “but…”

“Are you embarrassed?” Yuri asked. He seemed amused with the idea.

“Don’t,” you said, your eyes narrowed towards him. 

“There’s that glare of yours,” he said happily. “So cute…” His voice lowered, the sweet coo becoming a dark promise, “It makes me want to ruin you, you know that?”

You blinked in shock, a surprised, trembling shiver rushing through you, pooling hot in your core. There was nothing else to do. You tipped back the glass of wine, downing half of it. The alcohol burned, the dryness withering your tongue, but the flavor was good. Having the money for such frivolous pursuits such as good liquor suited good taste. Peeking up underneath your lashes made you think that your taste in men wasn’t so bad, either. If you were to disregard the manipulation and asinine schemes and the cruel games they played. Yeah, if you looked past all that, you’d stumbled into a downright enviable situation. As long as you could convince yourself of that. You downed the rest of your glass.

“Thirsty?” Claude asked, his grin apparent. “Or are you feeling like you need some liquid courage? I could help you out with that, you were pretty brave last time…”

“Don’t you dare,” you told him, your body tensing up. “I will throw this at you, Claude, I swear I-”

“Woah, woah,” he said, cutting you off with his hands held high. “I was just kidding. Trying to help you loosen up a little.”

“Children,” Yuri said dryly. 

“Sorry, _dad_ ,” Claude said, earning an unamused look from the other man. “What? Is being called daddy not your thing?” he prodded, his smile growing at the obvious way he was pushing Yuri’s buttons. He relented quickly, thankfully. “Fine, fine. Since you seem to want to be the one in charge, how do you suggest we go about this? Me? I’m a traditional type of guy-”

“Like the tradition of poisoning your partner?” you interjected.

“Extenuating circumstances,” Claude said, unfazed.

“While I am intrigued by the idea of what you might think is traditional, let’s start small, shall we?” Yuri asked. He looked at you, right back in control. A mockingbird king. “Take off your clothes,” he told you, head tilting against his hand, the elbow propped on the settee’s curved armrest. The picture of relaxation. “Unless you want us to be rough, I can’t say I’d mind that either. Just say the word.”

“No,” you responded.

“That’s the one,” Yuri said, amused.

“No! That’s not… I’ll do it,” you said, your arms wrapping around yourself in something like defense as you stood, discarding your empty cup on the table. It was a lie to say that you didn’t want it, and both of you knew it. You probably wouldn’t mind it if things got a little rough. But you couldn’t just submit to that.

Both men were watching. Lounging. Had you ever purposefully stripped in front of Claude? _For_ him? Had you ever put on a little show and presented yourself in strictly sexual terms? You couldn’t think properly to remember if you’d ever tried anything like that. In truth, you weren’t really the type. Too awkward, too unsure. You’d only ever been with Claude, so how were you supposed to judge what was or was not sexually appealing to any other man?

Godsgodsgodsgodsgods- 

“You’re not going to… Look away?” you asked them. It was meant to be a request, but your heart was beating hard and fast in your throat and you couldn’t quite get your voice loud enough to be properly demanding.

Yuri raised an eyebrow. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” Claude reminded you. “But I’ll close my eyes if it’ll make you more comfortable.”

“You won’t peek?” you asked.

He frowned. “That’s no fair.”

And he was all about fair.

Since neither of them was decent, you were the one to partially turn away, mentally steeling yourself. Sensuality wasn't your game. It never had been, usually winding up as an unintended consequence of your desire. But they were watching you and waiting for something, and you couldn't be so sure that embarrassment was the only thing heating up your skin. The belt-like sash was the first to go, undone by numb fingers while you avoided both sets of eyes. It fell to the floor and allowed the gathered front of your dress to fall open. Beneath it was just your bodice vest and slip.

The dress would be the worst, right? You’d take it off quickly and then be too far committed to back out. They both wanted to see it, to see you. Desired you. What a heady, dark thought. That should have been all you needed, enough to drive away the doubts lingering in your head. This would fix everything, wouldn’t it? Counterproductive and illogical as it seemed, you felt like that had to be the truth. You just had to take the plunge. But your fingers tightened in the fabric and panic began to ebb in nearer. This was crazy. And you couldn’t do it, not even with the wine tingling at the edges of your mind and smoothing out the harsh creases of your thoughts.

Yuri promised violence and lust and it made your thighs press together in an attempt for some relief, but it was also intimidating beyond all comprehension. Claude took away integral pieces of your sense of self only to talk about choice and love and you knew what you felt must have been true, must be love, but even with the wine on your tongue you could taste the sweetness and feel the guilt and disgust and empty, agonizing ache and you felt petrified, unable to do anything or go forward, unsure of what it was you wanted but knowing that nothing felt right.

“I’m sorry… I-I can’t,” you admitted softly, looking over your shoulder. It might have meant more than that, an admission that you couldn’t go through with this, but the shy, anxious smile must have looked like something else to them, your soft voice hoarse for an entirely different reason than they suspected. Maybe they didn’t know. Or understand.

Or maybe your mental turmoil was ultimately negligible to whatever else was going on here, you were just along for the ride. That was cruelty that you shouldn’t have been able to believe, you wished you didn’t.

“Aw, you really are nervous,” Yuri said, adopting a mocking baby-talk voice that made you bristle. He breezed past it quickly, addressing Claude. “Why don’t you help her out. I’m going to get a little more comfortable.”

“Fine, but only because I happen to have a heart,” Claude said, standing. His voice was softer when he spoke to you, green eyes piercingly gentle, crinkled by the smile he still wore. “You really don’t need to look so scared. No matter what he says, we’re not gonna hurt you. You realize that, don’t you?” He took one of your hands from where it had fisted in your dress. So warm. Authentically warm, like the sweet drops of sunshine that warmed the stony heart of the city. “And I know you want to be seen, there’s no way you’d wear a dress like this otherwise. So why don’t you,” Claude took your other hand, swinging around so he was behind you as your dress fell to the floor, “relax,” he said softly against your skin. The word displaced some of the fine baby hairs along your neck, his breath inviting chills across your skin as he left a line of kisses across your shoulder, to your neck.

Violet eyes raked down your figure before rising up to meet yours. Yuri’s comfort was, quite aptly, a state of undress. A fact for which you were both grateful and scared. It was intimidating to see him baring flesh you’d only dared to fleetingly wonder about. Intimidating knowing what it meant that he was undressing now, that he was exposing himself for you.

“Is this new?” Claude asked, unconcerned with Yuri as his hands worked at the laces of your bodice vest.

“Yes,” you replied, averting your gaze to something, anything else.

“I like it,” Claude said, ignoring the way you squirmed as he got it open and off. Then he pulled the shift up and over your head, casting it aside without ceremony and leaving you well and truly exposed. You shivered hard at the feeling of the cool night air slipping in through the open balcony door, knowing that you were naked and vulnerable. “I like you like this even better,” he breathed softly. “I missed you.” Despite the circumstances, Claude was unbearably intimate as he inhaled the scent at your neck, ran his hands across your bare skin. You writhed when he palmed one of your breasts, pinching the nipple to attention in a way that sent a flare of heat through you. “What do you think, Yuri? Isn’t she perfect?” The naked tenderness in his voice surprised you, made some defense you’d left up melt away. It, along with the surprising pleasure of his touch, helped to make you more pliant in his arms.

“She is,” Yuri said, holding your gaze with a smirk you couldn’t possibly hope to read. Compared to Claude, he was cold. Impossible to read. “Get on the bed and hold her there for me, will you?”

“Better hurry,” Claude warned, pulling you to your bed without further prompting. “If you take too long, who knows what we might do to find our own entertainment.” You only put up a token fight as Claude sat with his legs spread and pulled your back to his front, leaving you facing Yuri. The silk of his shirt was smooth against your bare skin, his natural body heat seeping through and keeping you warm. Not to mention the smell, the familiar scent of Claude’s skin that was so intoxicating. It helped to calm some disquieted part of your mind, to quell the thoughts you couldn’t quite kick.

“Well I’d hate to bore you,” Yuri responded, barefoot as he crossed your room.

He wore only the loose white trousers, everything else folded neatly on the settee. Compared to the chaos of your room and the way Claude had abandoned your clothes to settle where they may, it was rather endearing.   
  
“Hold her still. Yeah, just like that,” Yuri said, his eyes sliding over your body as he crawled onto the bed. In his gaze was all of the lechery Claude had never shown you, bright and lustful. He looked at you like he was mentally deconstructing you bit by bit. Like he was eyeing up a tasty prize, something to be devoured. He looked at you and it felt like a sin.

“I can behave myself on my own,” you said, struggling against Claude, wanting very badly to cover yourself. “Without help.”

“Oh, I’m sure you could,” Yuri said, settling his hands right above your knees before spreading them apart, exposing you without mercy. You really fought Claude’s hold then, squirming in a vain attempt to move away despite what you had said before. But Claude was unyielding as Yuri ran his hands upwards, over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “But the thing is, I’ve wanted to tie you up and have my way with you since that first night. Since I find myself unprepared, this will have to do.”

“I can’t help but feel that I’m a bit overqualified for the position of rope,” Claude remarked.

“Call it royal altruism,” Yuri said. “A king must do all sorts of things for his devoted subjects.”

“But this is em-”

“Quit complaining,” Yuri told you. Ordered you. The kind of command that expected absolute obedience, that made you go still. “Most girls would kill to be where you’re at right now. Helpless against the desires of a king and, well,” he shrugged, smirking, “me. So relax a bit, okay? I’m not going to do anything you won’t like.” His hands went further up your thighs as Yuri situated himself between them, his eyes holding contact with yours the whole time.

You wanted to say… Something. To banter, to play around, to normalize the situation and diffuse the tension. But you were mute, unable to come up with any argument.

“Hold on, Yuri,” Claude said, his voice rumbling against you. “Before you get too far.”

“What is it?” Yuri asked, his fingers squeezing inwards, nails biting into your skin as you writhed. “Don’t you trust me?” His voice was deadly sweet, the words coming out like a threat.

“You? With her? Not even slightly,” Claude answered. Despite his words, he was relaxed behind you, his voice warm with humor. “But that’s not the point. Just gotta clear one thing up reeeeal quick.” Without any warning, he hauled you up more solidly against him, away from Yuri. His nails scraped against your thighs until Claude had you informally upright, held up against his chest. And he kissed you.

Lips that tasted of the same dry wine as yours, his mouth hot and familiar. Claude kissed you with a week’s worth of pent up energy and need, licking the seam between your lips so you’d open yourself to him. He didn’t kiss you to dominate you, to force you into some type of forced submission, he kissed you with the expectation that you were already under his spell, pliant to his desires. And he was right. The angle was awkward, the situation less than ideal. And it was perfect.

Claude’s hand settled around your neck, squeezing ever so slightly until breathing became a near impossibility. Until you were dizzy, gasping, and still searching, kissing him as if your life depended on it. He kissed you until you couldn’t remember all of the perfectly reasonable reasons to object, until the memory of what he’d done was driven from your mind, until all that remained was him. Claude. Desire. More than that, need. Senseless and insatiable.

He could have been kissing you for seconds or hours and you wouldn’t have known the difference, your thoughts sent off to some far-off place you couldn’t quite comprehend. When he released you, you were panting and flushed and dizzy from the lack of air, black orbs bumping against the edges of your vision. Still caught in the unshakable embrace of Claude’s arms, you tried to reorient yourself.

“Staking a claim?” Yuri asked, although the words were all but meaningless to your ringing ears. All it did was remind you of your audience. His hands were still on your legs, you realized. At the same time as you became aware of that, your body went from light and numb to over-sensitized. As oxygen returned to your brain, chills crawled across every inch of bared skin. Your pussy throbbed dully, aching suddenly.

“And advertise my insecurities?” Claude asked. If you couldn’t feel how hard he was against your back, you’d have thought him to be unaffected by the kiss. Feeling his erection, even clothed, filled you with a heady mixture of satisfaction and even more need. Eager to please. But he held you still against him, unable to act. “Nope. I just wanted to kiss her and thought this might be a good time. I have a feeling she’s gonna be a bit distracted in a moment.”

“You might be right about that,” Yuri said. His fingers finally reached the apex of your thighs, spreading your legs wide enough to keep you exposed to him. When he touched your clit, your hips jerked, lips parting with a silent cry. All at once, you were tense with surprise, with arousal, with a violent resurgence of nerves.

Liquor, a lack of oxygen, and arousal weren’t enough to form any sort of sense out of this situation. Crazy, it was all crazy.

“Relax,” Claude murmured, nearly exasperated, keeping your arms pinned.

You were breathless, unconvincing, your lips swollen and body flushed and aching. You spoke knowing your objections meant nothing. “I-I’m not so sure about-”

“Don’t you want me?” Yuri asked, his voice low and eyes burning. He touched your clit again, the movement far more purposeful. This time there was no shock of surprise. You shuttered; a bone-deep feeling that fluttered all the way down to your toes. Your mind swam with the wine, the flavor of it pulsing in your throat, the memory of Claude’s mouth lingering on your lips.

“Yes,” you breathed out.

“Then shut up and let it happen,” he said, his voice suddenly _hard_. That shut you up, a fresh deluge of heat rushing through your gut and pooling in your core.

“I didn’t realize how bossy you were, Yuri,” Claude said.

“It comes with the territory,” Yuri muttered with a smirk as he repositioned himself, pushing your legs apart to pepper kisses up your thigh. Not quite what you wanted, but a part of you was grateful that he started slow, gave you a chance to catch up. His hand continued to tease your clit, inviting pleasure to the forefront of your mind. Between that and the liquor, you couldn’t help it when the first moan left your mouth. A pitiful, helpless whimper of a sound. With only yourself for company in the past little while, the closest you’d gotten to sex was a pillow between your legs.

Then he bit you. The tender flesh of your inner thigh was already overly sensitive from his touch, your body trying to relax into the pleasure. And it hurt, your body jerking against them.

“H-hey, no!” you whined.

Was it the pleasure or the pain that you didn’t like, the sober part of your mind wondered, considering the combination of both was making your core tighten, your hips bucking against his hand? And why did you bother protesting it?

Yuri’s tongue smoothed over the mark, his lips closing over the wound to suck. And all the while he rubbed maddeningly little circles over your clit, not letting up even as you writhed.

“Now who’s staking a claim?” Claude asked.

Yuri pulled away with a wet _pop_ , leaving an angry purplish mark to stain your skin. “I’m leaving her tokens of our friendship,” he said like a joke, biting down higher on your thigh.

This time you just moaned, your back arching.

The fingers he had between your legs slid downwards and you knew you were already wet before he made contact, before he slid a finger into you without much difficulty. The sound was lewd and slick, shameful. And you whined. Although you didn’t know if it was because of the intrusion or because of the loss of contact against your clit. All you knew was that when his mouth finally abandoned the aching bruises he’d left on your thigh to lick a wide stripe across your sex, you moaned.

“Yuri-” you gasped, earning yourself another finger when he pushed them back into you. His were longer than Claude’s, thinner, but equally as dexterous as they curled upwards to stroke your g-spot. At the same time, Claude palmed one of your breasts, rolling a nipple between his fingers. Your body jerked hard, head thrown back against his chest, and eyes squeezed shut as if to avoid the utterly depraved scene of which you had the starring role. The men had no issue keeping you pinned in place, nowhere to go to escape their torture. “Too much,” you tried to tell them, writhing. “Please, ‘s too much.”

Yuri _laughed._ It was cruel. Erotic. “That’s not your call to make,” he told you, adding a third finger. The fullness was intoxicating, the edge of pain confusing your thoughts further. Then his lips closed around your clit and you wailed, a distinctly lewd sound that you weren’t nearly far gone enough to not feel disgusted by.

Behind you, Claude groaned, pinching your nipple just a little too hard. He pushed his hips forward, grinding against your back.

In your core, the familiar coil of tension was on its way to breaking. The desperate chase for pleasure had you thrashing, writhing, trying to free your hands from Claude’s grasp to fist in Yuri’s hair, your thighs trying to close against his head.

Claude grunted, adjusting his grip on you to pull you upward, his hand leaving your breast to reach forward and hook beneath your right knee, pulling it back to spread your legs even further. The strain hurt your thighs, which were trembling uncontrollably, but there was nothing you could do. Yuri’s off-hand was on your left thigh, keeping it open and up to expose you to him. To his cruel, teasing tongue, to his fingers as they pumped and curled inside of you, rubbing against your g-spot with each thrust. Your struggled died out completely, your body unable to do anything other than submit to the orgasm tightening within you.

Humiliation at the position blazed within you, a far-gone horror at being caught so helplessly and exposed between the two men. You writhed. Helplessly, hopelessly, pointlessly. Sweat beaded on your skin, cooling to the air still flowing in through your open balcony. Heat burned your skin, your muscles aching and spasming.

“You’re close, aren’t you,” Claude said, his voice low. “Turns out that our Yuri is more than just talk after all.”

“Believe me, I’m more than capable of multitasking,” Yuri said. You whined at the loss of his tongue on your clit. You were so _close_ , just a little more pressure and you’d come for him. For them.

Claude laughed, the sound rumbling against you.

“Please,” you got out, grinding your hips into Yuri’s fingers as best as you could in the limited position. “Please let me… Yuri, please-”

“Relax, love,” Yuri cooed. Even in your lust-drunk state, you knew the words were borderline mocking. You didn’t care. “I’ve got you,” he said indulgently, reassuringly. “I’ve got you.”

His mouth closed around your clit and his fingers doubled their speed. It was most definitely too much stimulation, too much pressure. More than enough to get you off with his words still fresh in your mind, running around in circles. The coil of tension in your core snapped and heat pulsed through your body, the muscle aches and sweat and overbearing heat and embarrassment all becoming a heady hot mixture of pure sex, of arousal and satisfaction. Everything that had seemed wrong became right for those few seconds of perfection, Yuri’s tongue and fingers working you through your orgasm until your moans became sharp as overstimulation crowded in.

Yuri let up and Claude’s hand loosened from your leg, letting it fall limply to the bed. For a second, it was all you could do to lay there and stare up at the ceiling, trying to get your thoughts in order. Claude smiled down at you, brushing hair off of your sweaty face. His look was mischievous, if affectionate. His pupils were blown, his cheeks flushed. Aroused.

“You okay?” he asked as he helped you sit up. Claude was taunting you, maybe, in that infuriatingly playful tone of his. The words might have indicated concern but you knew what laid beneath. This was far from over.

“Yes,” was all you could say in response, considering you had no idea what you felt. Other than desperate. Even gasping for breath, flushed hot with a sheen of sweat coating your skin, your thighs painfully sore, and your aching center pulsing —you knew that you wanted, needed more.

“Good, then come here,” Yuri said. He’d taken off his pants while you were distracted. Even naked, he was unassailable and calm. Without shame, he touched himself with the same hand he’d used to get you off, stroking slowly from shaft to head in an unnaturally elegant way. Yuri was beautiful and he knew it. Luminous and pale skin stretched over a graceful frame of slender muscle and unabashed confidence, violet eyes lined lightly with kohl, delicate pink lips stained with the red of arousal, a flush that was like paint against the pale canvas of his cheeks. 

“Wha-” Your mouth was dry, forcing you to clear your throat. “What do you want?” you asked. But of course you knew.

“We’re friends, yeah?” he said. “I scratch your back-”

“And I scratch yours,” you finished for him.

He smiled. “Exactly.”

You looked behind yourself at Claude who was taking the distraction to undress. He’d already gotten out of his shirt, exposing that perfect chest of his. Summer sun-darkened skin with a brush of dark hair, the line of his collarbones and the hard planes of his pecs, the smooth curves of muscle in his arms.

“Don’t mind me,” he said, winking at you. “He took care of you, it’s good to pay your debts, right? Right.”

It wasn’t the permission you feared you’d been looking for, but it was encouragement enough.

You licked your lips as you crawled to Yuri, unearthing every single bit of knowledge you had about giving blow-jobs. A dick was a dick, right? It wouldn’t be that different from Claude. Probably.

Yuri watched you with his unreadable eyes, nearly consumed with the dark of his pupil and hooded with desire. “Feeling shy?” he asked. Teasing, as always.

“No,” you responded.

“Then why are you hesitating?” One of his eyebrows raised with the challenge.

“I-” you searched for something witty to say in retaliation, but found that your mind was blank. There was only one way you were going to win this exchange. Yuri moved his hand when you dropped to your elbows. His cock was about the same length as Claude’s, a little thinner, the shaft a shade darker than his own skin and the head the same sweet reddish-pink as his lips. You wrapped your hand where his had been, holding it up so you could wrap your lips around the head, feeling the velvety skin with a swirl of your tongue. Yuri groaned. The hand that wasn’t supporting his torso slipping into your hair. Still, he didn’t push you. 

Feeling more confident from his reaction, you bobbed your head, spreading your saliva down with one hand while the other snuck underneath to gently massage his balls, doing what you knew Claude liked. That got you an honest moan, deep and low, his hips shallowly thrusting into your mouth.

“Not bad,” he said with a breathless sort of laugh, his voice tainted by pleasure. “Good girl.”

Your thighs clenched, an unintentional moan vibrating in your throat at the praise. Fueled by desire, you doubled down, enthusiastically setting a decent pace, working against him with your tongue with each pass. You wanted Yuri to come. You wanted to give him pleasure like had you, to be praised again, you wanted-

Claude pulled your hips upward, onto your knees while your chest was still against the bed. You cried out in surprise, pulling away at the surprise. Yuri’s cock, hot and slick with your saliva, left your mouth before he took it in hand, pressing it against your cheek.

“Claude, what are you-” you began, your words cut off with a squeak when he pulled you back, forcing you to stabilize on your arms while he pushed your knees apart.

“You’re distracting her,” Yuri said, displeasure coloring his tone, although that was weakened somewhat by his breathless state.

“Please, don’t let me interrupt,” Claude said. “I welcome you to continue. It's not like you really need anything other than her mouth, right?"

There was a pause, pregnant with the tension of two sexually frustrated men.

“I would think,” Yuri finally said, his voice strained, “that you’d want me to be kinder than that.”

“Oh, believe me, that’s plenty kind,” Claude said, amusement in his tone. “If you could see how wet she's gotten just from blowing you-" You yelped with Claude’s hand dipped between your legs, his fingers calloused and practiced as they nudged against your swollen clit and down to your slick hole, the movement making an awfully lewd wet squishing kind of sound.

Yuri swore, his voice low and dark, sending a violent rush of heat through your stomach. He swept some hair away from your flushed face, getting you to look up at him. "Is that okay with you?"

You nodded, a panicked little bob. "Yeah."

Yuri had to readjust, one knee propped up on the edge of the bed to give himself more leverage while the other foot dropped to the floor to support himself. You had to move forward to remain level, but Claude was more than happy to help push you towards Yuri, leaving you sandwiched between the men in a terribly compromising position.

"If you can speak, you can show me," he said, snapping back into that borderline cruel voice. Taunting you, this time. You looked up at him, your eyes wide. Slowly, you parted your lips, opening your mouth. He held his cock, glistening with your saliva, right in front of your face, his elegant hand pumping the shaft once, twice, a third time as he brought the head to rest against your open lips. And all the while watching you with those impossible violet eyes, now black with desire.

“So bossy… Now that I think of it, don’t you think you should be a little sweeter?” Claude asked him, still teasing you with a darting touch against your clit. “You are trying to win her forgiveness, after all.”

“No,” Yuri said, watching you the whole time, “ _you’re_ trying to win her forgiveness. _We’re_ having fun.”

“Riiiiight. Well, the good news is that I think it’s safe to assume she’s in a forgiving mood,” Claude replied. Without warning, he pushed two fingers into you, easily curling them in just the perfect way that had your back arching and inner walls pulsing, a moan breaking out around Yuri’s cock. You were so wet you could hear the filthy sound he made when he thrust his fingers in and out of you.

Yuri tensed up, his eyes closing and cock twitching. When they reopened, his face was drawn with renewed focus. And lust. “You’re damned sexy, you know that?” he asked, the kind of question that was never meant to have an answer. Even if it was, you’d have been completely muted when he thrust his hips forward, his hands gripping your hair to pull you onto him in tandem with the thrust. At first, you panicked, nearly gagging, but a second later you overruled animal instinct and relaxed your throat.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Claude said, maintaining a bit of his playful theatrics even when you could clearly hear his lust. The bed shifted as he moved behind you, keeping your hips steady while lining himself up with your aching hole. He was clearly eager and tired of playing spectator, not caring to take his time when he slammed his cock into you. Not that it mattered, your body was more than accommodating, soaking and hot and ready for him to take advantage.

It was perfect, the angle allowing Claude to bottom out in just the right way, to fill you entirely. Like you were made for this. Your back arched, your body begging him for more. You must have moaned, but the sound was cannibalized by Yuri as he tentatively thrust in and out of your mouth a few times, as if he were trying to ease you into it. Claude had face-fucked you a few times, although he usually preferred for you to do all the work. Yuri didn’t seem to care one way or the other, quickly working into a rapid pace to compliment Claude’s own.

From one man to the other, it quickly became overwhelming. You tried to breathe through your nose, to remain relaxed so you didn’t gag. Your hands fisted in the sheets beneath you, your hips held up by Claude as he fucked you. Not slowly, he wasn’t trying to last. There would be time for that later but for now, you felt as if you could feel his desperation. His need to claim you. The terrible and wonderful crescendo to everything he’d done, staking a claim even as another man selfishly fucked your mouth.

Crazy. It was all insane. You were insane, writhing and twisting your hips as you tried to get as much as pleasure as possible out of Claude’s cock, searching blindly, instinctively. When his fingers dipped beneath your body to rub your swollen, over-sensitive clit you had to have cried out, but the sound was nothing, meaningless, silenced. Yuri groaned. You felt him surge in your mouth, your throat. He was getting close.

That, the pleasure, the lack of air, the insanity of it all was enough to send you off over the edge, the tension in your core snapping violently and spreading thick and hot through your body as you submitted to being used. Heavy tears were squeezing from your closed eyes, your chin dripping with saliva, your skin shining with sweat, your arousal wet against your bruised and trembling thighs. Your orgasm seized you _hard_ —squeezing around Claude and moaning around Yuri— and your discomfort was made right for a little piece of forever, all that was wrong reaching an apex of pleasurable clarity. It was all perfect, wonderful, hot and heady and delicious and so disgustingly sweet.

But even as the high subsided, Claude. Didn’t. Stop.

You were wailing somewhere underneath the effective gag of Yuri’s relentless fucking, crying out for mercy between the assault. It was impossible to tell if Claude’s expert fingers against your clit were agonizing because they were prolonging your orgasm or if he was simply pushing you off into another that your body couldn’t sustain.

Yuri moaned. Breathless, violent, beautiful. That was all the warning you got before he pulled you all the way down and he was buried in your throat, his cock pulsing as he came. Your scalp screamed from his rough handling. You couldn’t breathe. You didn’t want to choke, swallowing quickly in a desperate attempt to stop that from happening. The taste was less bitter, a little sharper than Claude. After a few shallow thrusts, Yuri pulled out of your mouth.

Oxygen-deprived and overly sensitized, you fell against the bed, gasping for air and senseless. Yuri collapsed next to you, laying sideways as he breathed hard.

Claude made a low sound. Not quite a growl, but not a groan, either. He pulled out, flipping you onto your back and away from Yuri. When he pushed back into you, he did so with his entire body, curling above you and caging you in with his arms. It was intimate

“Do you forgive me?” he asked, his voice low and hoarse. There was no joke, no playfulness. Claude fucked you desperately, needfully. He surrounded you, everything, everywhere. He was close.

He slipped a hand between your bodies to touch your clit again and it wasn’t pleasurable so much as it was inevitable, you would come because that’s what your body did when touched like that. A mechanical, basic response.

But even then, you moaned. His name, of course. Claude. Just Claude.

“Yes!” you cried out, sobbing even as you moaned in pleasure as your body worked to come again at his demand. “Claude, yes, I-” Orgasm hit, snapped within you, making you tremble beneath him, if he could even feel it beneath his rough assault. Claude came soon after, your pussy milking his own orgasm the whole way through, your shaking thighs tightening to hold him inside of you.

Even as you both came down from that high, he remained. Holding you close, his face buried in your neck.

Finally, he rolled over, laying flat. You whimpered at the feeling of him pulling out, the awkward, awful, empty, wet sensation of it.

“That was fun,” Yuri finally said, cheery and breathless. “We should do it again sometime.”

You groaned in response, your eyes closing. He laughed at that.

Trembling and sore, the vague sensation of being tipsy still twisting uncertainly in your thoughts, and disgusted by your general sense of _damp_ , you knew that even though you very badly wanted to blackout to avoid dealing with everything that had just happened, you wouldn’t fall asleep like this. But that would mean opening your eyes and handling the consequences of your actions, the two men laying sweaty and spent in your bed.

When you thought of it like that, it really was a rather enviable problem to have.

If only one of them wasn’t a manipulative king who held your heart like a leash and the other a beautiful criminal who was going to dash out the door the second he came to.

If only.

Emotion swelled in your chest —a response to the hormones, maybe— and your gasping breath caught in a fresh sob. You didn’t want to cry, you couldn’t let yourself. Gods, you didn’t even have the energy.

“Will you be spending the night, Yuri?” Claude asked. The bed shifted as he sat up, heaving a heavy breath and letting out a happy sound. “I’m sure we can make room.”

You peeked an eye open as Yuri sat up, his hair a mess. “Maybe another time. My people will be expecting me back.”

“Suit yourself,” Claude said, standing up and pulling on his discarded underwear. He met your eyes, gaze raking over where you’d fallen into a dispassionate slump. “I’m gonna draw us a bath.”

You nodded, finally getting yourself upright. Your head spun. “I’ll join you in a second.” Yuri was already dressing, his hair smoothed mostly flat.

“Yuri?” Claude said, pausing in the doorway.

“Yeah?”

Claude smiled, eyes twinkling in the dim light of your lamp. “Don’t be a stranger.”

Yuri’s lips quirked. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Claude smiled, then left, the door closing behind him to keep the steam in.

“Do you think it's okay?” you asked Yuri after a moment of silence, the only sounds that of fabric shuffling. “Me and him, I mean.”

“It’s not my business,” Yuri responded, his eyes finally settling on you as you slipped off the bed, a sheet haphazardly wrapped around your naked form.

“It kind of is,” you said, frowning, “now.”

Yuri's head tilted inquisitively as he considered you. “You love him.”

“I do.”

He nodded, seeming to think carefully about his words before finally speaking. “Claude’s a good man. But even good men can be rotten when it comes to love.”

“You speak from experience?” you asked, trying to lighten the mood with a smile.

Yuri didn’t answer in kind, his tone remaining dark. “Something like that.”

Water crashed into the tub in the other room, audible in the silence as it stretched between the two of you. It was awkward, unbearably so. Yuri, for once, seemed awkward.

“Maybe I'll come to visit you in Fódlan,” you finally said.

He stared at you, his gaze hard, piercing in a way you’d never seen it. There was something else in the expression, something that made your skin crawl. “He's not going to let you go, you realize.”

Your breath caught. “What?”

“I’m sorry I didn't see it before. I might've... ah, nevermind.” His head shook, gaze averting. Pity, you realized, was what you’d seen.

You gaped at him, unsure of what to say, how to respond. Finally, you spoke, your voice hushed with nerves, “We're still friends, right?”

“Sure. I'll see you around, friend.” He glanced at the door to the wetroom, a worried expression crossing his face before vanishing, the veil back in place. “Try not to get yourself into any trouble with his majesty. I'd love to do this again sometime.” He winked, but it was sterile, like he was simply delivering a line.

“Me too,” you agreed, trying to match his easy tone. Even still, there was something hollow about the words. A hollow, chilly feeling in your stomach. “Goodbye, Yuri.”

His lips quirked with something unsaid, a look you didn’t recognize shifting behind his eyes. But then he just shrugged, smiled. “See you.” And just as easily as he’d come back into your life, Yuri was gone.

Your shoulders sagged with the click of the door. Inexplicably, you had the urge to cry again. To go after him.

Then the door opened, behind you.

“Are you coming?” Claude asked. He was smiling at you, all warmth and adoration. It was enough to shove down your emotions, to give in. You’d always give in, you thought.

You’d always choose Claude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND WE'RE DONE
> 
> FINALLY
> 
> CYA
> 
> (hope you enjoyed it and if you did maybe leave a like or comment or something I dunno, if you want)


End file.
